


Seeing Red

by Knave_Iespyk



Series: Lunar Cycle Series [8]
Category: Thundercats
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 50,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knave_Iespyk/pseuds/Knave_Iespyk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 'biography' of Red Eye, from birth to Third Earth compiled from the memories of the Lunataks and Thundercats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Seeing Red by Jonathan James Prideaux

Introduction

Ever since I was a little girl I heard the stories, you probably know them too. I vividly remember sitting on my father’s lap as he told me about the great hero Red Eye, because that’s what he is: a hero. As I grew older I asked myself “Who is Red Eye? What more is there to the man than just the legends?” and so that is what I set out to discover.

Luckily for me this legend came back from the dead, and I got the chance to talk to people who know him well, as well as a rare glimpse into old archival footage. Through my writing I hope to illuminate his life, to see the hero yes, but also the family man, the gourmet chef, and staunch defender of our moon. In short, I hope to help you see Red.

* * *

Unique Origins by Black Tiger  
Present Day

The librarian sat at a computer, Black Tiger hovering over her shoulder. “Everyone already knows about Red Eye’s birth. I’m sure I’ve seen the doctor’s report in here somewhere.”

“I already saw the home movie. His daughter, Shade, kept it. How gross is that, watching your father being born?” Black Tiger wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t entirely naive in the way that such things happened, the education system on the Dark Moon of Plundarr was sufficient for that, but the thought of watching something like that rubbed her as wrong, especially when you knew the people. She had, indeed, managed to watch the video and wasn’t looking forward to going over it again before she wrote out the unique birth of her hero.

“It could be worse. You could be watching your own birth. Ah, here we are. I hope it helps,” the librarian said, pulling up a file on the screen. Black Tiger thanked her and began to read. Shortly she would begin writing.

* * *

126 years ago

Karnin watched, hands trembling, as the doctors and nurses scurried about the room. Equipment was set up and his lovely wife wasn’t looking quite so lovely now. Sweat marred her usually pretty face and her legs were splayed in a most undignified manner. And yet there was a tingle in the air, a magical feeling as the time for his son’s birth came closer and closer. His hands could hardly keep the video camera steady while the head doctor moved into position.

The child would not be normal, he’d been told, a genetic defect had ruined his eyes and could pose problems down the road that no one could foresee. There were options, of course, infrared technology was a specialty on a moon that saw very little light. Specially designed electronic devices would be implanted, but that too came with a great risk.

The truth was, nothing of this magnitude had ever been encountered before. There were so many unknown variables involved that one couldn’t hazard a guess on what the boy’s future would be. It was entirely possible that the defect or the devices could kill him.

But all thoughts of doom and gloom were shattered by that single piercing cry. It was the sound of angels to Karnin’s ears. For one glorious moment he felt like the happiest man on the moon. The doctors had finished extracting the squirming bundle from his mother’s womb, cleaning it and wrapping it gently. The parents were finally getting a chance to meet their newborn son, and were given a few precious moments to welcome him into their family before he would be rushed off to be checked over. “He’s beautiful,” Nuizelle said, staring down through bleary eyes.

“He is. Our son,” Karnin chuckled softly. The word ‘son’ felt unusual to his tongue, but it tasted wonderful. The child was bald and pale, with startling unformed lumps in his eye sockets. He’d been warned, but seeing it was another matter. “Hello Somrak, welcome to the Dark Moon.”

* * *

The operation was a success, all things considered, and a week later little Somrak was brought home for a small celebration with a few family members. Birth rates were low on the Dark Moon, for no apparent reason, and so every child was welcomed heartily. But the uncertainty in his future caused more than a few people to stay away.

Somrak turned his head this way and that, the tiny mechanical devices allowing him to see normally, as well as the infrared spectrum, swivelled this way and that trying to soak in the new information. It was, in fact, one of the concerns that the doctors had expressed, that the child’s brain could be overloaded and that they should stick with a single spectrum for the time being.

Everyone had questions, which they asked while cooing over the infant, asking how the new eyes worked and what the options were for the future. Karnin understood the fuss, but found himself tiring of answering the same questions over and over. His wife was still drained from the pregnancy, and all he wanted to do was cuddle up with his new family and get some sleep.

Years would pass. Karnin and Nuizelle would rear Somrak as best they could. Fear of the genetic defect that had rendered him blind prevented them from trying again, especially when Somrak’s teeth failed to develop, only a hardened set of gums. They didn’t want to take the chance of something even worse striking a second child. But Somrak would grow up to make them proud. He learned to cope with his deficiencies and rose above them, becoming the great hero we know him as today. It wasn’t always easy, ask any parent and they’ll tell you that, but despite the setbacks Karnin and Nuizelle would love Somrak forever.

* * *

Present day

“My education probably wasn’t much different than yours,” Red Eye said. He was, truthfully, a little embarrassed to be having all this fuss made over his life, but he wouldn’t object to it. Black Tiger was visiting him on Third Earth and the two were currently seated in his bedroom drinking a thick syrupy tea made from local tree sap and leaves.

“That’s okay,” she replied. “Tell me about your name. Everything I’ve read says you were born Somrak, but no one calls you that.”

“No. I haven’t heard that name in a long time. School was difficult, intellectually I was near the top of my class, but socially I was lower than scum.”

* * *

114 years ago

The day was turning out exactly as he’d expected. His class had wandered into the thick jungles that coated the surface of the moon for some wilderness training. In another four years he would be doing his obligatory patrols of these same jungles, searching for invaders and keeping the dangerous predators away from the cities. The patrols were an essential part of life on the moon, and one that every citizen had to take part in.

Somrak was looking forward to it. His classmates were being as cruel as ever, making fun of him and poking him when the teachers weren’t looking. One day he would be out there in the wilderness, surrounded by people in whom he had to trust, and he would be able to vent his frustrations. “Hey red eyes! Think fast!” Somrak didn’t turn, he just ducked as a dead rat was thrown in his direction. It was Joren, a tall boy who enjoyed making life miserable for him.

A quick look around indicated that their teacher was still preoccupied with another child and a first aid kit. Their lecture for the moment was on indigenous plants and one had stupidly touched a poisonous kind with their bare hand. Why couldn’t Joren have been that boy? “What’s the matter, red eyes, don’t like my gift?”

Gift? His only gift was his ability to come up with stupid insults. It wasn’t very creative of him to refer to him by the colour of his mechanical eyes. It would be like calling Joren ‘blond hair’ or something. Still, the taunting would only continue, and possibly escalate if Joren thought he could get away with it, until he responded. He picked up the rat, turned and regarded the bully. The infrared spectrum showed no fear in him, which meant that he was either confident in his ability to back up his words, or too stupid to know better.

“Was that a gift? I’m sorry,” he said, slipping the rat into his mouth and crunching on it whole. “Thank you for the snack.”

“That’s gross. You’re a sick man, red eyes.” It seemed to work, as Joren turned to look for an easier target. He wasn’t particularly proud of what he’d had to do, but he was learning the easiest way to defeat the bully was to do the unexpected. With the distraction taken care of, Somrak returned to examining the fauna, trying to recall what he’d read in his texts.

He was staring at a tiny white flower, edible, high in protein, but tasted awful, when he heard a sound he’d only heard in video footage. Instantly he scanned the area for the source of the sound, even as the teacher tried to corral the students. The thamram was a large predatory feline that usually kept away from civilisation, but it had been known to make exceptions when food was scarce. “Look out!” he shouted, spotting the beast moving swiftly through the foliage, brilliant yellows contrasting with the surrounding purples. He switched to regular vision automatically even as it leapt out, savagely pouncing on a young girl.

She screamed, a piercing sound, while the slavering creature snapped its jaws at her. He knew her well, one of the few classmates not to call him names, and death was a common enough occurrence on the Dark Moon, and so he felt spurred to action. Before the death blow came, Somrak’s pistol was out and he’d managed to squeeze off a pair of shots to go along with the four that his teacher had fired. Training started coming back into the students, and they too drew their weapons to assist their classmate. In moments the thamram was dead and Somrak found himself helping to pull the carcass off the woman.

* * *

“I’m very impressed with you, Somrak,” the teacher told him after an emergency team had arrived. The girl, Twyla, would live, though she would forever remember her brush with death just as she would the one man who hadn’t panicked under the pressure. “You did well. Your marksmanship needs a little work, but when it’s time to do your patrols, you’ll serve the moon well.”

“Thank you,” he replied. He didn’t think he’d done anything special, he’d just done what anyone would have done, the only difference was that he moved quicker.

“Yeah, you did pretty good, red eyes,” Joren said, “how’d you draw your weapon so fast?”

* * *

Present day

“That’s it? A bully’s nickname sticks?” Black Tiger asked a little incredulously. It seemed too simple an answer, like there should have been a mythical artifact inlaid with ruby eyes that granted him supreme power, or something.

“That’s all it is. Joren called me ‘Red Eyes’ for years, and when we happened to get assigned to the same patrol group the call sign stayed with me. Our class was divided in pairs among some of the veteran patrols. I still remember, shortly after my sixteenth birthday, meeting squad twelve.”

* * *

110 years ago

They looked larger than life to his young eyes. A six person group who had been active for a long time. They’d lost one of their number a week or so ago and were looking to take on a full time replacement. If either trainee proved themselves worthy they might get chosen. That was just added pressure. This was squad twelve!

Somrak had done his research. This squad was one of the better ones. They weren’t flashy, but they were efficient and he saw the beauty in that. He also saw the beauty in the team’s leader; from her muscular legs to her short cropped hair. He’d always been fascinated by hair, resulting from the lack of hair on his own head, yet another blessing of his genetic defect. “Red Eye and Joren reporting for duty,” he heard Joren announce, saluting.

“Red Eye?” Dawn asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Somrak, actually, but we all call him Red Eye on account of his red eyes.”

Dawn nodded curtly. “We operate out of this location. We split the team in half, four out in the field, four in reserve. We’ve helped keep our sector secure for thirty years, don’t screw that up. You can leave your things third door to the left and then come back out here. We haven’t had a chance to clear Nightrunner’s stuff out, so don’t touch. One of you will work with me tomorrow, the other will go with the others in the field.”

Somrak lifted his bags and walked steadily down the hall, even though his stomach was doing all sorts of tricks. Their basic education had taught them what to expect from the wilderness patrols, but seeing the equipment scattered across the control room, seeing the confidence exuded by Dawn and the others, he wished the walls could talk so they could tell him what they’d seen.

There was a different feeling entirely when they entered the dead man’s room. There were a pair of beds in here, a desk and a set of bookshelves. Somrak walked over and examined the titles, a whole lot of scientific journals, from the looks of things. “Hey, check it out. This must’ve been Nightrunner,” Joren said, holding up a picture. A grim faced man, stared back at them, streaks of black camouflage paint still staining his cheeks.

“Put that down. Remember what Dawn said?” Somrak snapped, a little harsher than maybe he’d intended. His parents had taught him to respect authority and his elders, and that’s what he intended to do here.

“Yeah, I heard her. I call top bunk.”

* * *

The rest of the day was spent being shown what the various pieces of equipment were for and going over the team’s ground rules. Most of it seemed, to Somrak anyway, to be common sense things. Following orders, sticking together, keeping eyes open and the like. Dawn seemed particularly interested in Somrak’s mechanical eyes, making sure that he could see normally and asking questions about their capabilities. She’d read the reports on them long before he’d set foot in their little compound, but clearly wanted firsthand knowledge and it was something he immediately respected in her.

As the morning turned into afternoon four of the squad members went out on patrol, leaving the new recruits at home to watch how things went. There were two communication stations, one for speaking to the squad and one for monitoring other frequencies. The latter was for a number of reasons, mostly if another squad needed assistance or if a civilian should report seeing something that needed their attention. Typically the other two members of the squad would be backups to the first two or be performing checks on the motorcycle like vehicles that the team used to get places in a hurry.

Somrak watched raptly as the duo worked. The patrol, from the sounds of it, was going smoothly. There were no recent signs of intruders, and only the briefest sightings of any animal larger that a rat. Nothing out of the ordinary, Dawn assured them. There was very little chatter, thankfully, and the team made good time. It was almost unfortunate that there wasn’t any unusual activity, as he’d half hoped to see them in action, get a taste of what it was really like before he was dropped in the middle of it. Still, if it was an indication of what to expect then he could look forward to plenty of quiet days.

* * *

About a week later he would experience his first taste of action. While the Dark Moon of Plundarr was generally left alone by her neighbours, on account of its reputation for not allowing anyone to leave, the occasional foray was made by both the other moons and the Mutants themselves. A report had just come in indicating that a Mutant cruiser had been spotted hovering briefly over the outskirts of the city and that all squads were to immediately send units out to investigate. It was Somrak’s turn to be outside so he suited up in the black uniforms that were specially designed to mask one’s body temperature. The enemy was getting clever, and it was up to the Darkling scientists to make sure that they were even more clever.

“Ponacht will be in charge of this run,” Dawn reminded them, taking a seat at one of the communications stations. It would be her voice they would hear while out there. “Stick to the grid and report anything even remotely suspicious.”

“Shouldn’t we leave the rookie behind?” Ponacht asked, adjusting the heavy rifle slung over his back. Over the last few days Somrak had found it hard to get a good reading on Dawn’s second in command. He seemed to have a dislike for trainees, but he sensed that there was an underlying reason for it. Grief over losing Nightrunner, perhaps? Either way, Somrak knew enough not to get involved in a dispute between them.

“Nothing better than a Mutant invasion to test his mettle. Better to know now that he’s not cut out for this than later.” Dawn turned her focus to the entire team then. “A Mutant cruiser isn’t likely to have sent down more than a dozen people. Engage them if you’re sure you can handle them, otherwise wait for backup to arrive. Understood? Good, get going.”

* * *

They stepped out of the small compound, located at the heart of their designated sector, and began walking through the dense foliage. “Spread out,” Ponacht said, “fifty feet, standard search pattern.”

Somrak obeyed, taking one of the middle slots. The suits they wore weren’t perfect, if he looked carefully to either side he could barely make out a shimmer marking where the others were walking. Dawn’s voice chimed over the headset indicating that there were still no reports of Mutant activity from any of the other channels. The jungle was teeming with life, but he still couldn’t make out any signs of anything large enough to be a Mutant.

It bothered him. Mutants weren’t known for being particularly bright, but surely their scientists must have come up with something to make them feel confident in sending a group in. Camouflage technology? A new weapon? Or had they in fact done anything at all? All were plausible options. Of course, if they did have new technology and the Darklings were able to find it, then they could turn it over to their own scientists for study.

He turned his head this way and that, trying to pierce the dark, listening for any unfamiliar sounds, and trying to detect the foul stench that typically clung to Mutants like a damp rag. Nothing out of the ordinary yet. He’d already been in these jungles a number of times and was starting to get used to the sights and smells. A bird, somewhere high up in the trees, chirped a pleasant song. The strange pyramid shaped plants that were purple and green in regular light seemed to grow everywhere in this region. Faintly he could smell the leavings of one of the many creatures that used the jungle as a home.

An hour of hard walking later and he saw it. A flicker of dark yellow that lasted for all of two seconds before reverting to a dull purple, which he reported immediately in a hushed tone, marking the spot. “Affirmative. Ponacht, get your group closer to the spot Red Eye found,” Dawn said over the radio.

They moved, and Somrak was impressed with how the veterans seemed to make the progress look incidental. If he didn’t know better, he would swear that they were only headed towards the mysterious blip by sheer co-incidence. The Mutants, assuming that’s what it was, would never suspect a thing until it was too late, even if they had some means of detecting where the Darkling patrol was. He saw the flash again, whatever it was was definitely moving, and this time Starim saw it too. He picked up his speed, adjusting his angle.

“How many of them are there?” he asked himself quietly. Just because he could pick out one blip now and then didn’t guarantee that there was only one Mutant roaming around. In fact, it was just as likely that one Mutant was wearing a defective suit or something. Now that they were definitely closer he could see the same faint blurring that the Darkling suits gave off. “Stolen suits?” he whispered.

“If they’re stolen, we can beat them,” Dawn replied. “Ponacht, use the flash bombs. Make sure you all turn off your infrareds.”

Somrak obliged. He’d been through that before. Especially with his mechanical eyes it was dangerous. The light from the spherical projectiles would hurt anyone wearing such goggles. It wouldn’t be much better for those with normal sight, but at least it wouldn’t have as great an effect.

Darklings, by nature, weren’t accustomed to great quantities of light. Their moon was usually plunged in darkness thanks to the great canopies of trees that blotted out the sun. But they were trained to adapt quickly to bright bursts, especially the patrols who used such weapons to their advantage.

“Ready in three, two one,” Dawn counted down for them. Somrak looked away for a second as the brilliant light filled the jungle floor. Startled shouts erupted, and Somrak quickly looked with regular sight. A Vulture and a quartet of Monkians stood rubbing their eyes, even as the light began to fade again.

“Surrender or die, Mutants,” Ponacht said sternly, as Somrak and the others moved in. With their regular night vision superior to that of the Mutants they could pick out their targets relatively easily. Somrak picked a brawny Simian who was reaching for something on his wrist.

“Caw! We choose flee,” the Vulture said. Rifles fired even as the Mutants tried to activate their transporters. The Vulture and a Simian managed to hit theirs, though Somrak would put money on the Simian being dead on arrival, while the other three apes collapsed on the ground.

“Mission accomplished, Dawn, send a cleanup crew. We’ll want to look in to where they got these outfits from, they look like they were adapted from some of ours.”

“Copy that. Stay where you are. Teams are on the way.”

* * *

Present day

“The Mutants had expected to fail,” Stalker said. Being of higher rank than Red Eye, Black Tiger’s father had access to some of the intelligence reports from the planet Plundarr. She sat with him in the kitchen of his home, as her Tigress mother brought them sandwiches. “The whole exercise, as it turned out, was to find out how our infrared technology worked. Each of the Mutants was wearing an electronic device that collected all kinds of data on the squad. I don’t know how they found out that the typical squad carried four people, but they did. That’s why five went down, in the hopes that at least one would return with serviceable data.”

“I never would have thought that. Mutants aren’t known for their brains,” Black Tiger said, chewing thoughtfully. “But then, they were led by a Vulture, weren’t they.”

“Exactly. Our teams analysed the recording equipment, but there was nothing we didn’t already have. A few expressed concern that the Mutants might learn something of value from it, but the attitudes of the era were that Mutants were dreadfully inferior to Lunataks. ‘No Mutant has ever been a match for a Lunatak’ as I’ve heard it said. We know a little better now, but that’s small comfort.”

“The thing is, from what Red Eye said, the excitement of the day didn’t end there.”

* * *

110 years ago

Fresh off the thrill of a successful hunt, proud to have been the one to pierce the Mutants disguise, Somrak returned to the compound. He had basked in the afterglow of all the praise from rest of the squad through the waiting and travelling, he’d even almost driven his motorcycle into a tree he was so distracted. Even grumpy surly Ponacht had managed to mutter a congratulations his way. Life was good.

When they got back Dawn gave him and the team the rest of the day off, sending them to the city for some celebratory drinks. She would hold the fort, and Joren volunteered to stick around in case anything cropped up, Dawn could handle field work on her own, and Joren could take the communications. It was a little unusual, given their growing friendship, but Somrak couldn’t be mad at Joren, he was probably feeling a little jealous that it had been Somrak and not he who had been instrumental in the victory.

And so Somrak found himself at a little hole in the wall place that Starim claimed to frequent on occasion. Of the group, Somrak found he liked Starim the best. He was the newest addition and seemed to have fun now and then, which the others didn’t. Ponacht especially. It was hard to fathom the stoic man even cracking a grin. The atmosphere was nice, a few dim lights ensconced along the walls, soft music, and a crowd of Darklings all seated around a number of tables.

They found a seat by the door and ordered some alcoholic drinks and the dinner special. Chunks of wild pig basted in a creamy white sauce. “You’ve got that look on your face,” Starim said, watching Somrak eat.

“It’s not bad,” he lied. Even though he’d only been with the group for a week, he had developed a reputation for being a finicky eater. He loved eating, experimenting with flavours and textures. Somrak’s parents had owned a restaurant, and his strangely developed mouth had given him a different perspective on food. Joren had, of course, proceeded to tell everyone about his eating habits from their time in school together.

“But?” Starim prodded.

By now the rest of the table was listening intently. The times that people let him mess with their foods the results were always very good or very bad. “Well, the meat’s fine, though it could be cooked a little bit more, but the sauce could use some parsnips and maybe black water beans.”

“Black water beans? Nah, this stuff is fine without that spicy kick. Parsnips aren’t a bad idea though. You should write a cookbook one of these days, just get someone else to try the recipes first.”

“How to combine your leftovers in one tasty meal,” a young woman’s voice said. Somrak turned and found Twyla standing behind him. The squad she’d been assigned to had just come through the door and were soon mingling with them. She looked great, she’d survived the encounter with the thamram quite nicely, with only a faint scar on her shoulder. “Still experimenting, I take it?”

“This is Twyla. We were classmates,” Somrak said, suddenly remembering his manners. After the introductions were finished between the two squads he asked “What brings you here?”

“It’s all over the news. Squad 12 stops invasion. Darkwin over there has run into Starim a bunch of times and figured we’d find you here,” Twyla explained.

“He was right. Hey Darkwin, you ready to defend your drinking contest title?” Starim replied with a chuckle.

* * *

All things considered, Somrak decided he didn’t like the feeling of being drunk. He’d consumed alcohol before, of course, but never in such quantities. Ponacht had been inclined to leave him slumped over the table, but Starim and the others had persuaded him otherwise. The only downside was he’d been unable to vomit on Ponacht.

He’d woken up the following morning in a strange bed, staring up at an unfamiliar bunk, and feeling as though there were a spaceship firing its engines in his head. His eyes had been on all night, they caused him some discomfort if on too long, but he was sure that most of it could be blamed on the alcohol. Deciding that it wasn’t going to do him any good to stay in bed, whoever’s bed this was, he sat up and took stock of where he was.

“At least I didn’t wake up next to anyone,” he said blearily, his mouth tasted like old socks. It was a nasty flavour that he had yet to find a use for. It was Starim’s room, which didn’t take away the question of what he was doing in there. Starim himself was fast asleep, snoring gently. The veteran had probably been carrying him and figured that Somrak’s room was too far to bother with.

Slowly he made his way to his bedroom to get some clean clothes before hitting the shower. The door hissed open and immediately his senses were assaulted by an unfamiliar odour. Something wasn’t right. He switched to infrared and was doubly surprised. There were two life readings in Joren’s bed. Pieces of information clicked in far faster than he’d have liked. Dawn’s lectures about the dangers of the life and how one should value the opportunities for friendship that came along. Joren’s lack of desire to celebrate with him. The fact that Starim had taken him to his room instead. The lovers were blissfully unaware of his presence, so he grabbed a spare uniform and rushed to the showers.

He turned the shower on full blast and let the water cascade down him. The whole situation bothered him, not the fact that Joren and Dawn were sleeping together. They were both adults, they had the right to consent to any outside activity even if it did seem strange that they’d only known each other for a week. No, what bothered him was that a man that he’d called friend had decided that sex was more important than sharing in his triumph. That was why Joren had volunteered to stay behind, surely. Maybe Joren wasn’t as good a friend as he thought he was. Maybe the old bullying Joren was still there. Somrak promised himself to talk to Joren when he woke up.

* * *

Ponacht was the only one up by the time Somrak made it to the kitchen for breakfast. He sat at the counter with a data pad in front of him, going over the local news. “You made the front page,” Ponacht said, barely lifting his eyes. “‘Mutant invaders stopped by local teen.’ Doesn’t make the rest of us sound very good.”

“I wouldn’t have been the hero if that Simian’s suit didn’t have a tear in it.”

Now the elder Darkling put down the pad and looked at him. “That’s not what you were saying last night.” Sharp eyes roved over Somrak’s features. “Ah, so you’ve been to your room then. Jealous of him? In this business, kid, let me tell you. Our life expectancies are short. The good ones survive, but out there is a wild animal with our name on it. We’ve learned that you take the opportunities for sex, no emotional attachment needed. Heck, I bet if you asked she’d bang you too. Dawn’s fair like that.”

Somrak’s jaw dropped. “She would?” There was something in the prospect, but he shook his head vigorously. That wasn’t what he was upset about. “I mean, no. The problem is Joren. How could a friend do that to me? He should have been out with us last night.”

Ponacht snorted derisively. “Like I said, when opportunity knocks you answer, because it might not knock again before you kick the bucket. My betting? One of you and Joren won’t be alive by the end of the year.”

“What’s going on here?” another Darkling, a woman named Narda asked, coming in and helping herself to the pot of coffee brewing by the stove. She was the team’s best field medic, though they all had some basic skills. Such skills were vital when the nearest hospital might be miles away.

“Somrak here is preaching about loyalty and friendship because Joren chose Dawn over him.”

“You’re not gay, are you Red?” Narda asked, surprised.

“No, of course not.” The words came out a little harsher than he’d have liked. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with people who were, it was that he couldn’t even stomach the thought of himself and Joren in that kind of relationship, especially given how angry he was with his friend at the moment. “I just think his friendship with me should have meant more than a casual fling.”

“And he doesn’t notice the hypocrisy,” Ponacht sighed, clearly giving up on the conversation and going back to the data pad.

Somrak looked from one Darkling to the other in confusion. “You don’t remember last night? I think you spent half the night talking to what was her name again? Twyla? You tried to go back to their compound too when they left.”

He did? He didn’t remember that at all. Somrak remembered Twyla coming over to the table and catching up with her for a bit. Had it been that long a conversation? He flushed in embarrassment and he mumbled an apology.

“Don’t worry about it. Even Ponacht was your age once. Tell you what, come down to my room tonight if you want to talk about it some more.” And if he thought his cheeks had burned before, they burned brighter now.

Never turn down an opportunity, they all said. He supposed they were right, he’d always been curious, and now he had a chance to find out. Oh, he would still talk to Joren but then he would have a different talk with Narda.

* * *

Present day

“Red Eye told you about losing his virginity? I’m not sure if I feel comfortable with my daughter hearing that,” Stalker said.

“Dad. I’m not much older than Red Eye was at that point,” Black Tiger tried to explain, “And I went through the same program he did. I didn’t try anything, but the opportunities were there.”

“That doesn’t make me feel more comfortable.”

“Fine,” she took a quick sip of tea. “To make you happy, he just told me about the offer. No details.”

“That’s better.”

* * *

110 years ago

Both Somrak and Joren were left behind, at Ponacht’s suggestion, during the day’s patrol. Dawn took Narda, Starim and Gweyth with her out into the field, leaving Blacksun and Ponacht behind to handle the radios.

He found Joren working on one of the motorcycles as he entered the garage. “Well?” Somrak prompted, catching the other’s attention. Joren wiped at his brow and looked inquisitively at him. “Was she worth it?”

“Oh hell yeah. You should’ve been... well, actually you shouldn’t have been there. I didn’t know sex could be that good. I mean, I banged two of the girls in our class but they were nothing like Dawn.” Joren had missed the tone. It didn’t surprise Somrak. He didn’t like being subtle, but he’d felt a slightly more diplomatic approach had been called for, in honour of whatever existed of their friendship.

Walking over and pretending to examine the motorcycle himself, Somrak flicked speck of dirt off the mirror. He was grateful that he had no tear ducts, he knew that the betrayal was eating at him. Or would he be saying something different after being with Narda? Maybe he should wait until then for this conversation. No, if he put it off he might never get around to doing it. “So sleeping around was more important than sharing my moment?”

Joren laughed. He’d always found that laugh to be annoying and squashed the urge to belt him for it. “That’s what this is about? You get a bump in the head or something out there? This life, it’s all politics. You want the money and fame, you gotta do what you have to do. Squad 12 is a damned good group and they happen to have an opening. I intend to fill it, and what better way than by banging the one who makes the call. You? Sure, this was a moment of glory for you and some day you might be somebody important, I doubt it but you never know, but I’m doing what I have to do to be someone important myself. Maybe I’ll get married, have kids, get moved to central command. If that means pissing you off, yeah it was worth it.”

It was honesty. Brutal honesty, Joren’s body temperature fluctuated within acceptable levels, and somehow that angered him even more. A tendril of something black and solid caught his wrist before he could take a swing. Somrak turned and saw Ponacht looming in the doorway and not looking pleased at all. The tendril was made of an inky substance that could be solidified at the wielder’s whim. “That’s enough, you two. Go to your room, Somrak. I’ll let Dawn decide what to do about this when she gets back.”

* * *

Somehow he’d expected that might happen. Ponacht and Dawn had discussed the situation and she had encouraged him to keep an eye out for trouble. As soon as Somrak had gone into the garage Ponacht had abandoned his post and watched through the walls with his infrared goggles. Joren must not have been wearing his, otherwise he would have seen Somrak becoming more and more agitated. Ponacht knew there would be violence if he didn’t intervene, and it was a good thing he had. The penalty for brawling could be severe depending on the commander. Dawn could be strict, and she would doubtless have come down hard on Somrak.

Not that he particularly cared about the boy, but Joren was certainly asking to be belted based on what little he’d heard, and Somrak showed the more promise between the two. Assuming neither was gotten rid of there would be a need to change accommodations. Which meant that the vacant room next to his would be filled. Perhaps he would recommend it for Somrak.

* * *

Dawn didn’t look happy in the least as he entered her office. Joren had been led by Ponacht into their mutual room and Somrak ordered to follow. She waited a long while before indicating that he could sit in the single chair opposite her desk. “I’ve heard Ponacht’s report, I’ve talked to Joren, now I want to hear this idiocy from you.”

Haltingly he spoke. He tried to explain the situation. In truth it felt awkward complaining to his commanding officer because she’d been sleeping with his best friend, but that was just the spark on the kindling of the feeling of being betrayed. What had fanned flames to a roaring inferno had been the smug attitude, the implication that Somrak was worthless and, perhaps, that he’d been merely using Dawn to further his own ends and that those ends might cost him his future. There were squads that were always looking to fill vacancies, squad 12 rarely was one of them.

“It’s none of your business, but I’m going to tell you what I told Joren anyway. Last night was meaningless. I had a need and he filled it, that’s it. If you think that’s going to influence me in the slightest you’re dead wrong. He’s a good looking man, but in the end he was just the right man at the right time.”

Somrak shifted in his chair. Her eyes never left his, gauging his reactions no doubt, weighing them against Joren’s for the possible opening. “He is right about one thing though, you’re no one important right now. You got lucky yesterday, and that’s about half of what our job is about. The moon is big, and the patrols out there can only cover so much ground. Don’t let it all go to your head or the next time you might get overconfident and be carried back here in a body bag. I’ve seen beginner’s luck too many times to count, and I really hate contacting families afterwards to tell them that their kid got his fool head blown off. Now then, there’s the question of how we’re going to go from here.”

Now he sat straight up. He didn’t think she was going to have him relieved of duties, her tone didn’t suggest that, but there were a number of other punishments she could mete out. “You’re grounded for a month. No working in the field until we’re confident you’ve cooled enough not to get yourself or anyone else killed. Of course, that means we’re going to get a real good idea of what Joren can do out there.”

It was a slap in the face, and his cheeks burned even though she hadn’t raised her hand. A month would give Joren a huge advantage in the competition. “Good, you get it. This will test your resolve; you can either crumble and give up or push extra hard to impress. You’ll be moving out of your room, there’s a vacant one down the hall. Ponacht tells me you’ve got other accommodations for the night, so you can wait until tomorrow when Joren’s out on patrol to move your belongings.”

Now his cheeks burned for a different reason. It surprised him a little that the older gentleman would even discuss Narda’s offer, but now it seemed he didn’t have a choice in accepting it. “What about Joren, is he being punished?”

“For what? From what I can tell, all he did was insult you. In the grand scheme of things that’s nothing. He’s a got a month in the field to impress or screw up, if he does the latter then things may change. Until then, no. Is there anything else?”

The woman’s tone was aggravating, but she was also his superior. With no other recourse Somrak shook his head and left to grab some dinner.

* * *

Present day

“My friendship with Joren never recovered,” Red Eye settled back in his chair in thought. It was odd how they’d started as enemies, had a brief friendship, and ended as enemies again. “But I don’t think either of us knew how far we’d drifted. About eight months later, our mandatory terms were coming to an end. Joren was still in the lead in the race between us. I was now going by my nickname permanently, when we got the call.”

* * *

110 years ago

“Listen up everyone. Things just got interesting. Princess Luna’s going to be visiting the capital today on a surprise visit. The government has asked the local squads to double their efforts on the outskirts of the city, and are pulling others in to be help. The last thing we want is the heir to the throne being killed off on our watch, so get geared up and ready to go,” Dawn said.

The capital! Red Eye could scarcely believe his ears. He’d always wanted to travel there. It was said that there was a proper space port there and everything. A place of such decadence that they had cleared trees out of the way to provide natural lighting for their great city.

The city nearby built directly in the jungle, incorporating the massive trees into homes and businesses. There was a single landing pad built high in the tops and supported by a network of girders and beams. He’d never been up there, but he’d heard the view was spectacular.

And the princess too! Relations between the moons weren’t the greatest, but there was a certain respect afforded to the queen of the empire. She was said to have been chosen by the gods themselves, and even the Darklings own goddess Tesudas backed her. That’s what the priests said, anyway. He’d seen pictures of both Queen Cresca and princess Luna in the news reports, but had never imagined he would see either one of them in person.

Like the rest of the squad he was eager for the royal visit and went to his quarters to change. He picked his cleanest suit and dressed quickly, checking his weapons meticulously to make sure they were in working order. Sidewinder, rifle, pacifier, flash bombs, and more, each taking a designated spot on his person. He was amazed at how much this compound felt like home now, though given that it was the only physical structure apart from the very rare foray into the city that he spent time in, it probably shouldn’t have been terribly surprising.

It seemed so long ago that he’d come here, and soon they would be coming to an end. Joren would surely get the vacant slot and he would have to go find another squad or look for other employment. His parents might hire him on at the restaurant, he supposed.

Shrugging, and doing a last minute check that he had everything he needed, Red Eye joined the others in the hovercraft that would be their transportation to the city. He sat next to Narda, and smiled at her. She’d been his first lover, but had never invited him back. But they’d maintained friendship regardless. “That’s everybody,” Dawn announced, as she and Blacksun clambered in, the latter taking the driver’s seat. And then they were off to the capital.

* * *

The capital was everything he had imagined and then some. Though Darklings preferred solitude and night, here in the capital it was clear that attitudes were changing. Red Eye even caught a glimpse of a Graviton walking through the open aired city. All his training had not prepared him for the great ball of fire hanging in the sky, casting searing golden light on the city.

He must have been gawking out the window, because Narda poked him in the ribs. Dawn was talking. “We’ve been assigned to monitor the perimeter of the banquet hall where Princess Luna will be eating dinner with the city elders. You see anyone that looks even remotely suspicious, report it. The local forces will take care of the doors. We’ll split in to pairs. Ponacht and Red Eye, Blacksun and Starim, Gweyth and Narda, myself and Joren. North, east, south and west respectively.” The squad leaders with the trainees; it made sense but Red Eye always felt a twinge of anger whenever Joren and Dawn worked together. It wasn’t rational. Apart from that one month stretch they’d probably spent equal time with the older woman. He wondered, inappropriately, whether the two had ever slept together again.

Putting all other thoughts aside, knowing that none of them would help him in his defence of the future queen of the Lunatak empire, Red Eye followed Ponacht to the northern side of the banquet hall. There was a small park here, consisting mostly of a wide open grassy area and a handful of young trees. On either side of the park there were some stores and, he knew, residences further along. It was a large stretch of land for two people to cover, but they were well trained.

Their uniforms and armaments would mark them for who they were immediately, so there was little point in trying to blend in with the people casually walking around. Many, it seemed, were unaware that they were to be visited by royalty. “Look alive,” a man’s voice said over their radio. Obviously central command was taking control of the mission, he thought, as the man continued. “Princess Luna’s ship has finished docking, they’ll be making progress towards the hall shortly coming from the north.”

“North?” he almost said aloud. They’d be passing his station. That made him and Ponacht even more vital to the protection of the princess. An assassin waiting along the route would have opportunities out in the open.

Red Eye switched to infrared vision and scanned the trees in the park, double checking that no one was hiding in them, especially the ones closest to the main roadway. His infrared didn’t work nearly as well in these open aired conditions, or maybe it was just that he was more accustomed to the darkness of the moon. Ponacht was watching the people on the streets, looking for anything that might be a concealed weapon. He didn’t have the advantage of switching effortlessly between normal vision and infrared, so he left some of that to Red Eye.

Nothing yet. He switched his focus briefly to the buildings along the other side of the road. A skilled marksman could be hidden up there, he figured. Still nothing, but that was no guarantee. “Royal progress turning on Gateway,” the headset chirped, updating him. That was the main street, if he remembered correctly from the briefing in the hovercraft, and they would be within sight in about twenty minutes.

Deep down he could feel the tension mounting. All those months ago Dawn had been right; he’d gotten lucky, he’d thought that it was going to be nothing but moments of glory in the field, but the truth was that it was a hell of a lot more dangerous than he’d ever imagined. A second encounter with a thamram had taken fourteen stitches to mend and he counted himself lucky for every one of them. Only Gweyth’s sharpshooting had spared him from a visit to the morgue. If he screwed up here and the princess died it could lead to war.

Fighting between the moons was common as rain, but something like that could unify the other four moons against the Dark Moon, leading to the deaths of many, the raping of resources and... he shook his head again. He had a duty to perform and worrying wouldn’t help him any.

Once again he caught sight of the Graviton, waddling down the street. An assassin from another moon might make sense, especially if the blame were to be pinned on the wrong moon. He scanned the man, at least he thought it was a man, for hidden weapons and didn’t find any that tripped his infrared. The man’s stress levels were slightly elevated, but that might be for any number of easily explained reasons. He would keep an eye on him regardless, just in case.

“Here she comes,” Ponacht spoke into the radio. “We have visual confirmation.”

Red Eye swept the region again. The Graviton was wandering the wrong direction, others were not. A few people were standing on both sides of the road now, peering down trying to catch a glimpse of the princess. Someone threw a hat in the air, causing Red Eye to gasp. He nearly drew his rifle to shoot it down when sense overtook him.

He could make out the motorcade now, a heavily armoured car led by a dozen footmen. The people were cheering for her now, optimistic that her rule would bring even more glory to the Lunatak empire. And then they were passing his position, his heart leapt to his throat, eyeing the crowd fervently, not wanting to be held accountable if something were to happen. And then he saw her. The camera footage had not done her justice. She was squat, bearing the family curse wrought on Luna’s grandmother by some sorceress on a planet he’d never heard of. Luna was also hideous in appearance, slathering on makeup to try and hide her imperfections. It didn’t work. A paper bag over her head would be more effective, he thought with a dry chuckle.

* * *

Present day.

“Are you sure you want me to print that?” Black Tiger asked sceptically.

“The book isn’t about her. She won’t bother to read it, heh, heh, heh,” Red Eye replied.

* * *

110 years ago

Snapping his eyes from the grotesque creature, Red Eye resumed his duties, watching for any signs of potential attack. He was starting to feel optimistic that everything would go smoothly when there was a sound of gunshots. “We’re under fire. Western section of the banquet hall. I count six trying to get to the service entrance,” Dawn said over the radio.

“Get the princess inside, squads fifteen and three, additional support for the princess,” central command ordered, though the local forces had already come to the conclusion that getting Luna to safety was a priority.

“Rest of squad 12 get over here,” Dawn snapped. Six on two weren’t good odds, and Red Eye knew it. He trusted that Dawn was easily a match for any one that might be attacking, but Joren was still a trainee, while his combat skills were improving he still made mistakes. He ran, pushing his way through panicked citizens, certain that a pair of heavily armed men running through them wasn’t making them feel better. The sound of energy weapons grew louder as he and Ponacht rounded the bend. Dawn and Joren were pinned down behind a car while five Darklings returned fire from behind another.

A sixth was sniping from a rooftop. “I’ll take the sniper,” Red Eye said to Ponacht, pointing. The veteran nodded, moving quickly to take cover behind another car. It gave him a better angle at the five attackers, but soon found that the sniper still had a clear line of sight on him.

* * *

The building in question was an apartment of some kind. Infrared allowed him to keep track of where he needed to be, though he kept to normal vision to help him read the signs inside better. He found a stairwell and hoped it led to the roof. Tesudas was smiling on him, it seemed, as he found himself at the doorway to the roof in only a few minutes. He switched to infrared to confirm the marksman’s location. He was a little to Red Eye’s left. The door would shield him from view when it opened and would make for adequate cover. Depending on how good he was, Red Eye knew he might only get one shot, so it would have to count.

Red Eye drew his sidewinder first. A clean shot with it would imprison the sniper in fire, buying him time to get in close and subdue him with the pacifier, a club like weapon that delivered a powerful electrical charge.

The door creaked alarmingly when it opened, drawing the sniper’s attention to his visitor. Sidewinder and rifle fired simultaneously, a bullet piercing his chest even as the other man was engulfed in flame, it wouldn’t kill and wasn’t really fire, but it rendered a man inert for a time. Staggering, blood beginning to spill from the wound, Red Eye tried to walk over to his prisoner. “Sniper subdued. I need a doctor,” he gasped.

Only his training and willpower got him within striking distance. “Idiot, your princess is a dead woman,” the sniper said, struggling against the fire. “We were just the diversion.” Red Eye managed to strike at him with the pacifier before collapsing on the ground beside him.

* * *

“You’re a lucky man.” It was Starim speaking as Red Eye opened his eyes. He was in a hospital bed, he could hear the monitors and machines chirping away, could feel the fluid line in his arm. “Your chest took a nasty hit, and you should probably be dead, but Tesudas must like you.”

“I don’t feel very lucky right now,” Red Eye replied, sitting up. His chest was bandaged tightly, and he wondered what the wound looked like. There would be a scar, he supposed. “What happened?”

“With the sniper out of the fight we had an easy time of getting the others. What we didn’t know is that there was a second group in hiding inside the banquet hall. They wanted us to rush the princess inside so that they could get her in their real assassin’s line of sight. Twyla, I know you remember her, saw him before he could get a shot away and saved Luna’s life.”

Red Eye nodded. “The sniper said that they were the distraction. I guess he wasn’t lying.”

“Yeah, well, Luna wants to see you and Twyla personally. You’ve got invitations to the Royal Moon as soon as you can, the rest of us just got a private thanks at the banquet hall. Like I said, the goddess must happy with you, lucky bastard. A few days with your girlfriend at the royal palace?” Starim grinned. There was no malice, jealousy perhaps, but no malice.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said automatically. They were friends who had seen each other all of twice in the last eight months. It hardly counted as dating in his books.

“Whatever you say. Rest up for now. Dawn’s asked me to brief you on royal protocols so you don’t make a complete idiot of yourself over there. See you later.”

* * *

Present day

Shade sighed. It had been so long since she’d heard her father and mother speak of that long trip to the Royal Moon. She was almost afraid she would leave out details. Still, Black Tiger wanted to hear as much of Twyla’s version as possible and her father was admittedly a little biassed in his stories. “If I recall, they boarded their ship without any difficulty...” she began.

* * *

110 years ago

Red Eye had never so much been to a space port let alone been on a ship itself, so the entire experience was exciting. His chest had healed sufficiently, and the doctors had cleared him to make the voyage. The fact that he was going to a whole new moon to see the princess, someone who might be a useful person to know down the line, only served to raise his excitement level to heights he’d never experienced before.

And he was going to share the experience with Twyla. Starim’s teasing aside, the thought of something between the two of them had crossed his mind. She was reasonably attractive, she seemed to enjoy his company, and they had a solid friendship to form the basis of a relationship. Whether she would be interested in pursuing something long term remained to be seen, but they would be stuck sharing a room for a few days.

The ship itself was a small sleek Darkling shuttle, painted black to blend in better with the night sky, though there were lights illuminating the side for peacetime travel. A pilot’s section was separated from the rear section by a solid wall of steel with a separate door. Twyla arrived late, and only allowed her giddy expression to slip for an instant as she regarded him. “I’m fine. The doctors say I’ll be better than ever,” he assured her.

“That’s a relief. I wouldn’t want you to die before you get a chance to meet her trollness.” She winked conspiratorially. “I already met her after the action, but she wants to publicly thank me, or something.”

“You deserve it. You saved her life, I just saved my squad.”

“We were both doing our duty. It’s good that someone out there acknowledges the work that we do. It’s a thankless job.”

“The squad is thankful, central command seems happy too. That’s all that matters to me.” The shuttle began to move and lifted off the ground. It was breathtaking, watching the canopy of trees and city scape melt away into the distance as they rose through the atmosphere. He didn’t have words to describe what he was seeing, the splendour of the cosmos unfolded around him, the sun shining off to the side, the Dark moon turning slowly.

Twyla matched his gasp, and clutched his hand as the pilot angled the shuttle slightly, causing the massive planet Plundarr to fill up the view. He’d seen pictures of it, knew that it was bigger than the moons, but to see it like this made it feel more real, brought it into focus just how much it dwarfed the moons. If the Mutants could ever unite themselves and launched an invasion of the Lunar empire they would win hands down.

“I wouldn’t share this moment with anyone else,” he murmured, managing to tear his eyes from the window momentarily. She didn’t respond, so he wasn’t sure if she’d heard, but then she didn’t withdraw her hand either. He chose to leave it for the time being and try and bring it up later. They spent the rest of the trip in silence, taking in the sights.

* * *

The Royal Moon, largest of the five moons of Plundarr, lay below. There were many legends concerning the formation of the moons, with the most popular being that the other four had somehow been split off from the Royal, how else to explain the variety of terrain on the main moon? The pilot, Red Eye suspected, was taking something of a scenic route as he managed to angle the small shuttle so that they could see some of the landmarks they’d heard about in the news, including the large palace.

All too soon their flight was over and the shuttle was landing at the space port. The rear hatch opened and they found themselves face to face with a Royal Lunatak in a gaudy silver and purple outfit. “Greetings, Red Eye and Twyla of the Dark Moon. I am Selendil, representative of the queen. I have been assigned to escort you to your lodgings. This way please,” he gestured, a rather exaggerated motion in Red Eye’s opinion, but then Starim had warned him that there were many on the moon who seemed to enjoy flaunting formalities. It was, he’d said, becoming almost farcical among the upper class. Starim stressed that laughing at them might be taken poorly.

He led them from the shuttle to a waiting car, and from there delighted in pointing out historical locales. Which statue was dedicated to which hero from which war and which buildings Queen Cresca had been present at during their openings. Selendil seemed especially proud of a bench that had been named after his father for service to the throne.

The journey finally came to a halt at a large building adjacent the palace. Official visitors, he explained as he gestured them to follow, were housed in a single building for security reasons. There was a tunnel that led from one to the other, protecting them from any harm the public might wish to cause them. Of course, he assured them, no one would want to harm two of princess Luna’s heroes here on the Royal Moon.

A pair of lumbering brutes carried their bags. “Guardians,” Selendil explained. “Luna has one named Amok that she’s rather fond of. Long lived, fiercely loyal, incredibly strong, agile, and immune to any psionic attacks. We’re looking at ways to increase their intelligence without taking anything else away.”

Red Eye had heard of this. Long ago the Psions were the unofficial rulers of the moons, everyone knew it but none could prove it. That was until a pair of genetic engineers lucked on a species that was resistant to such powers. They could even pick up on when other people were being influenced by psionic attacks. Once the crown got their hands on these creatures, part of the Guardian program as it became called, Psion influence dwindled.

“Ah. Here we are. The itinerary calls for you to meet Princess Luna privately after lunch tomorrow, followed by a public dinner with both the princess and the rest of the royal family. I expect you’re hungry and tired after your long flight, so I will leave you to it. There’s a direct line to the front desk, our kitchen is open all night, and I’m available if you have any needs that our dedicated staff can not fulfill,” Selendil said, brandishing a keycard from his pocket and handing it to Twyla.

“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful,” Twyla said.

Once their bags were dropped off and the door was closed again the Darklings erupted in fits of laughter. “Very helpful if I have trouble sleeping tonight. Did he ever shut up?” Twyla asked.

“I don’t know, I’m wondering what furniture will be dedicated to you if his father got a bench,” Red Eye replied. Despite the formalities, he had to admit that was a nice room. Far larger than his accommodations back at the compound. Walking around he judged it to be triple the size of his room. A full bathroom, a small living room area, a kitchen, and a spacious bedroom with, he noted with a twinge of regret, two beds.

The furnishings were all appropriately sized for Darklings, making him suspect that the staff at the hotel must have different rooms for the various races. A bed designed to comfortably fit a Psion would be far too large for a Royal. And no chair, other than one specially designed for it, would do for a rotund Graviton. This room was definitely designed with them in mind. Heavy curtains that covered the windows would blot out all the natural light, creating an environment more like home. There were even some native flowers kept in the bedroom to provide a homey smell. They’d done their work well in the effort to make their clientele comfortable.

The first order of business was inspecting the menu. To no surprise the food was organized by moon, with plenty of native dishes. Brandwurt meat pies, stuffed dremmin, and all kinds of pastries. Since the royal government was paying the bill they settled on food they never would have been able to afford on their limited budgets. The cooks did their best, but there was something missing, it just didn’t taste quite like either expected it should.

Finally they settled on the couch, stuffed, and turned on the local news. Twyla reached over and supplied a bottle of wine, Graviton made as they were well known as the best purveyors of alcoholic beverages. It was strong and sweet, and they sipped their glasses in silence for a long time before Twyla set hers on the floor. “Did you mean it?”

Red Eye looked sharply at her. The news was talking about a daring daylight robbery that had been thwarted, so he wasn’t sure what she was talking about. “Mean what?”

“Earlier, in the shuttle, when you said you wouldn’t share this with anyone else. Did you mean it?” His words came back, faintly he imagined that he could still feel her hand nestled in his.

“I did. We’ve been friends a long time and I would be interested in pursuing a relationship.” Instinctively he switched to infrared, hoping to confirm what he thought. Indeed her body temperature was higher as blood coursed rapidly through her system, and not just from the wine he suspected.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She moved closer, shifting her lithe body on to his lap and pressing her lips tightly against his. He moaned at the boldness, the feel of her tongue slipping into his mouth, her hard back beneath his fingers. A yearning he didn’t realize he’d possessed came loose like floodwaters through a broken dam.

Effortlessly he lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom, roughly shoving the beds together. Wanting to enjoy this moment he turned his eyes back to normal vision, though there was something erotic about seeing her obvious arousal even through her clothes. He ached to finish the act and stripped quickly. “It’s so big,” Twyla gasped, watching wide-eyed as his...

* * *

Present day

“Shade!” Black Tiger gasped. She was no stranger to the concept of sex, but to hear someone talking like that about their parents was shocking. She tried to pretend that her parents were virgins, it made life easier for her.

To her credit the older woman had the decency to look ashamed. “Sorry. My mother was strange when it came to sex education. Five years later they would have a bundle of joy they named Shade. But this time around they got lucky in more ways than one. Anyway, the next morning...”

* * *

110 years ago

Having untangled from both sheets and one another, Red Eye and Twyla dressed simply in their uniforms. Jet black body suits with white markings that denoted squad number and rank. They’d come armed with their sidewinders too, but left these behind at the hotel knowing that they would be confiscated for the royal meeting. They ate breakfast in silence, letting the events of the previous night soak in.

Selendil came promptly at one o’clock, knocking sharply on their door. He wore a different gaudy outfit today, this one gold with purple trim. There were tiny silver crescent moons embroidered on the trim, making it look even more hideous. Red Eye wondered how he was going to avoid staring at the thing all day without laughing at its pretentiousness. “Oh good, you’re ready. Princess Luna doesn’t like to be kept waiting. She’s in her study at the moment, if you’ll follow me.”

His training had ensured that they would be ready. Red Eye wasn’t sure how Twyla’s had gone, but Dawn drilled home the need for efficiency and didn’t tolerate tardiness. One dragged themselves out of bed for briefing regardless of how one felt. Dawn was sympathetic to illness and injury, but had wicked punishments if the ‘illness’ was self inflicted. Red Eye saw Starim suffer for a night of hard drinking. He hadn’t gone on patrol, of course, but he’d spent the day clearing away the thorny bushes that were encroaching on one side of the compound.

They were escorted back through the hotel and down through a tunnel. Selendil explained that it was a bit of a shortcut today as Queen Cresca was allowing people into the throne room to plead their cases. She liked to do it at least once a week to create the impression that she cared what the people thought. Selendil didn’t phrase it that way, but Red Eye suspected it was the case. The tunnel emerged in a heavily guarded room just behind the throne room, presumably so that the royal family could use it in case of emergency. Two of the soldiers, both from the Royal Moon, followed them through a twisting set of halls, past ornate pictures of past rulers and famous battles.

There was a painting of the previous queen, also named Luna, fighting Mumm-Rana hanging outside the study. It was quite well done and Red Eye could see that she must have had some beauty before Mumm-Rana had struck her down. He also wondered whether the beard and moustache had been on the original sorceress.

Selendil rapped on the door. There was a sound of movement within, and finally the door was opened by a hulking brute. Red Eye hadn’t seen Amok in the carriage, but assumed this must be him. He made him feel small, and Red Eye made a note not to anger the great beast. “You’ve done your duty, wait outside,” Luna called. Selendil bowed, his forehead coming close to the floor and stood at attention beside the doorway.

“Come,” Amok said, backing up. Once they were in he closed the door and took his position near his master. The study was a small room with bookshelves and file cabinets. The throne room was the seat of power for the Lunar empire, but this room was where the formalities of power were conducted. There was an unoccupied desk along one wall and a couch beside it where Luna was seated.

She wore an elegant purple dress. It was actually quite lovely, even if the diminutive creature wearing it looked out of place in it. If Red Eye’s impression of the woman, seen briefly through the window of her carriage, had been negative it didn’t improve seeing her up close. She was tiny, her legs were almost useless from what he’d heard, and her head was a size too large for her frame. “What idiot insists on knocking on the door to a study?” Luna grumbled.

It took a little effort not to cringe at the sound. Her voice was grating, even if he agreed with her sentiment. That was something he could appreciate in the woman, if it was an indicator of her personality. “I think his name was Selendil,” Twyla offered.

“Hmph. He only has the job because his father was a general at the battle of something or other. Twits like him will be out of a job when I take the throne.” She was bating them, seeing if they would say anything against her mother. Whether it was looking for traitors or potential allies, Red Eye couldn’t quite tell. He hoped that Twyla had caught on too.

“Even bootlickers have uses,” he replied evenly.

“I suppose so, not that my boots get very dirty. So, you’re the one who nearly got killed trying to take on a sniper. Even caught the spy for me,” Luna turned her full attention on Red Eye. He nodded. “Good. Our interrogators are doing their work on him now. We’ll either find everything we need or he’ll die an excruciating death. And if he co-operates he’ll still die, just a little quicker.” She grinned at the prospect. One did not try and assassinate her and live to tell the tale, apparently.

“I was just doing my duty, your majesty,” he said, meaning it.

“It’s just Luna, I can’t stand the titles, and I’m glad to hear it. My mother and I are of the opinion that loyalty is to be rewarded. The two of you were keys to protecting me against those assassins. Name your price, and don’t give me the usual garbage about my safety and happiness being reward enough. I have the bootlicker, as you called him, out there if I want that.”

Red Eye laughed, but kept it short. A royal favour was no small thing, and a number of things jumped to his mind. He could probably get the spot on squad 12 this way, but Dawn would resent that, it wouldn’t be a posting he’d earned but had been given. Twyla surprised him by answering first, though it was her request that surprised him more. “My mandatory term as a squad member is almost up, your maj... Luna, and I’m looking to my future. I’ve been thinking that I would like to open a restaurant in the city of Nasalgiv, with a house nearby, but I’m a little short on funds.”

“Money? Money is easy. And you?”

The request blew him away. He couldn’t help but picture himself sharing that life with Twyla, sharing a love for one another and a chance to experiment with his cooking. It was like she’d asked for his dream. He could still do his squad work too. He nearly asked Luna to marry them then and there, he was pretty sure she had the authority to do so. “The local hospital in Nasalgiv has done so much for me over the years, replacing my eyes among other things, but the local mayor is talking about cutbacks to their funding...”

“And some pressuring from the Royal Moon might help? Oh I love those conversations. I can be very persuasive,” she grinned wickedly, eliciting a chuckle from her equally persuasive Guardian. “Selendil!” The door opened instantly, and the Royal stood at attention. “Take these two wherever they want in the city. Just make sure you’re back in time for dinner or my mother will be very angry.”

“Your wish is my command, my queen. Right this way.”

As they left Red Eye was certain he’d heard Luna turn to Amok and say “I was hoping one of them would ask me to have him throttled.” But when he looked back she was reading a book instead.

* * *

Selendil proudly showed off his city, even though doing so was keeping him from his ‘vital’ duties with the queen. In truth it was a lovely city, though Red Eye and Twyla had very little to compare it to. Nasalgiv was so different, built within trees and letting nature dictate to some degree where the roads were. The Royal capital was another story. Lunis was all about grids and order, with towers and large buildings whose purpose neither could guess at.

There was some plant life here and there, mostly the odd tree planted at the side of a road, though many of the residential buildings had small gardens. They didn’t have a destination in mind, they merely asked to see the city. If Selendil hadn’t been around, Red Eye might have asked more about Twyla’s dream restaurant, had she said it knowing that it was one of his passions as well? How prominently did he feature in that future? Or would he. They were still young, almost seventeen years old. Was it too soon to be thinking of the future? How was he to know that this was ‘the woman’ for him?

Turning his attention momentarily from the future he tried to concentrate on the present by making polite small talk with their host. If he noticed Red Eye’s preoccupation he didn’t let it show and happily took him down a side street where there were some fabulous gardens.

* * *

They were returned to their hotel room to freshen up and relax for a half hour before the dinner. Twyla rummaged around in her bag for the black dress she had purchased for such occasions, while Red Eye made sure that his uniform looked crisp and neat for their visit. She, of course, had had more time to prepare while he was busy convalescing in the hospital. Twyla also looked gorgeous. If their host wasn’t waiting outside he might have been tempted to make love to her then and there.

His thoughts must have been transparent, as she kissed him full on the lips. “Later,” she whispered, slipping away before he could break protocol, and opened the door.

* * *

As before Selendil led them through the tunnel, though this time there were fewer twists in the halls before they arrived at the royal banquet hall. A room that probably held about three hundred people was arranged with tables and bustling with activity. Servers ran about, making sure that glasses were filled with all sorts of liquors, double checking the place settings, and ushers were guiding people to their seats. Selendil left them in the care of one of these before moving to his assigned seat.

The two Darklings were led, as they expected, to the head table and seated near the centre. Only the queen, king and Luna would have places of greater honour. The room’s occupants were mostly Royals, though there were a small assortment of Icewalkers, Psions, and Gravitons about. A trio of Darklings that neither Red Eye nor Twyla knew were given seats nearby, though not close enough to speak with them.

When it appeared as though everyone else had arrived, the large doors at the far end of the hall opened, admitting Cresca and her consort Orias, followed immediately by Luna astride Amok. It appeared as though Cresca had not been struck quite as harshly by the sorceress’ curse as she stood a little taller than her daughter, though both were dwarfed by the king. Red Eye wondered how Cresca had survived bearing her daughter with such a tiny frame. The only possibility was that the doctors had worked very hard on keeping mother and child alive.

Cresca raised her arms in the air, calling for silence, and spoke loudly. “Ladies and gentlemen, you have been invited here to help honour two heroes from the Dark Moon. As most of you know, while visiting their moon, my daughter and your future queen was ruthlessly attacked by unknown forces. It was only through the efforts of these two, and many loyal citizens like them, that this cowardly attack was thwarted. On behalf of the empire, you have my gratitude and I present you with these medals as a sign of our appreciation.”

A young man emerged from a doorway, and presented them each with a silver crescent shaped medallion emblazoned with the word ‘bravery’. “Your majesty, I speak for the people of the Dark Moon when I accept this token of your esteem. It is the duty and honour of all loyal citizens to do what they can to ensure the continued survival of the throne, long live her queen,” Twyla said.

Starim had advised that he let Twyla do the bulk of the talking. She had greater confidence and tended to speak more clearly. However, he felt it was important that he acknowledge the thanks himself. “May the perpetrators of this act learn the true meaning of justice.”

The crowd cheered and Cresca favoured them with a wide smile. “That is exactly how I feel about it too. An enemy of the throne is an enemy of the empire, and I feel proud to see so many loyal citizens here tonight. Perhaps we will get a public execution when the traitors behind this assassination attempt are revealed. On with the feast!”

Food came out then, slabs of meat, plates of vegetables and fruits, breads and cheeses. Red Eye had never seen so much food in one place before. Instantly he began to determine which combinations would go well together and tried not to try anything that might be interpreted as ‘weird’ by any of the other guests. “What motivated you to go after the sniper on your own like that?” Orias asked, sitting to Red Eye’s immediate right. While Cresca was the true ruler of the empire, Orias stood second in line to the throne. Most people only saw the lengthy line of Lunar queens and assumed that males could not inherit the throne but this was not the case.

“I didn’t stop and think about it, your majesty,” Red Eye replied. Just because Luna didn’t like the formalities didn’t mean the rest of the royal family felt the same way. “My team was in danger and I saw a route to help them.”

“You didn’t think? I see many people here who don’t think, and none of them would have done what you did. Perhaps we put too much faith in the Icewalkers as warriors, maybe we need to employ more Darklings in our army.”

Red Eye snorted, even as he dipped his slice of bread in a dollop of mustard and some kind of fruit preserve. The Icewalkers were renowned as the best warriors in a strict one on one encounter. Their ferocity, it was said, often allowed them to be the better in two on one encounters. Red Eye didn’t believe a word of it. He’d seen Dawn in combat and would match her favourably to anyone that the Icewalkers might put forth. “They have their uses,” he finally conceded. He hated playing the role of diplomat, but there was too much on the line. There were too many ears listening to his every word, including people who would no doubt try and spin what he said to their purposes.

The rest of the dinner went much the same way, with small talk and a seemingly endless stream of foods being provided. He found himself most comfortable when talking about less political topics with Orias and with Cresca. The queen took an interest in why he was mixing a little wine in with his gravy, which allowed him to comment on how the combination of the flavours worked favourably on his palate, and soon had her trying the same. This led to a fascinating discourse on food and recipes and a halfhearted offer to work in her kitchens should he ever decide on a career change.

* * *

By the time Twyla and Red Eye got back to their room they were both more than a little tipsy and very full. They collapsed on the beds and contented themselves with holding one another’s hand until their meal had digested a bit more. “That went well,” he said, turning his head slightly.

“You saw the cameras? We’ll be on the news back home for sure,” she replied. “I hope our squads approve.”

“My radio hasn’t gone off yet, so Dawn can’t have objected too much,” he smiled his toothless grin. She looked so beautiful he could hardly believe that he was here with her, that she had no other men in her life. It seemed impossible, and yet there it was. His eyes travelled over her perfect body, as much as that dress allowed. The smooth skin of her neck, the faint scar from so many years ago barely visible on the shoulder, the gentle swell of her chest, the flat stomach and those muscled legs. He couldn’t imagine a more beautiful woman.

“Red Eye,” his eyes snapped back to her face. She was watching him intently, her lower lip trembling just a little. “Marry me.”

It felt like being hit in the chest, a second bullet piercing his skin. Marriage? Had she really offered him that? It was so sudden, but it was what he wanted. Was it too soon? He was only sixteen, almost seventeen, after all. And yet... “When opportunity knocks you answer, because it might not knock again.” Ponacht had said that to him, and he was right. Squad work was dangerous work, either one of them could be killed at any time, leaving the other to ask ‘what if?’ He knew it and so did she.

She was also waiting expectantly, tears starting to form in those beautiful green eyes as she thought she was being rejected. He brought his mouth close to hers and whispered “of course I will. Together forever.”

* * *

Present day

“The week would only get better. Hero, husband and, when we got back, official squad member,” Red Eye said. It had been the happiest period of his life. The birth of his daughter came close, but that had led to darker moments. “Joren saw the writing on the wall. He knew that there was no way he would beat me for the slot in squad 12, so he resigned and took up with another squad. Two months later, Twyla and I were married and she was opening her restaurant. Dawn gave her blessing, provided that I remained dedicated to the team. Two days a week I spent with Twyla, the rest with the squad. She didn’t like it, but our love was strong. I still remember when she came to the compound four years later and announced that she was pregnant.”

Black Tiger smiled, imagining the scene. The child, of course, was Shade who would one day join squad 12 herself and work alongside her father until he received a promotion to central command. Familial relationships within the squads were rare but did happen. She remembered her own time doing squad work, having to prove that she was more than just her high-ranking father’s daughter.

“Having Shade made her the happiest she’d ever been. It was like having a piece of me at home at all times. It also hurt our relationship, in the end, I think. We married too young, and I was too focussed on my career, I see that now. But hindsight is worthless, isn’t it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Seeing Red by Jonathan James Prideaux

From child birth to Third Earth

“Red Eye? I remember the first time I met him. Cresca had died trying to give birth to a second child only seven months before and Luna and her husband, decided that something was needed to distract the people from the tragedy,” Tug Mug said. Black Tiger had tried to find somewhere in his bedroom that wasn’t covered in filth and settled for a spot that was less dirty than the rest. She didn’t want to know why he had a stool in his room when he couldn’t technically sit on it.

She did, however, know all about Piscaar. Her teachers had told her about him as a warning of what happens when power goes to ones head. When Queen Luna and the others disappeared on Third Earth they were presumed dead. Piscaar assumed control and immediately began by slaughtering the senior staff of the ship that had transported her. Murders, riots and assassinations were touched off. Piscaar himself would eventually be killed, only for a steady stream of successors to take control and subsequently meet their demise. The most recent king, Tycho, had managed to maintain control for almost a year before surrendering the throne back to Luna.

“Orias died shortly after under suspicious circumstances, most people think it was Piscaar, but no one was ever able to prove it. Luna, unlike her mother, had trouble uniting the moons, and one of her visions was a competition between the moons. Their best and brightest would compete in feats of strength, skill and intelligence. It coincided with the opening of a new arena in her mother’s honour and it was a grand occasion. It’s funny, of the six of us that went to Third Earth all of us were invited. Alluro declined, saying he already knew he was the brightest one and didn’t need some competition to prove it.” Tug Mug’s impression of the hypnotist was horrid, but elicited a laugh from the young woman anyway.

* * *

100 years ago

Red Eye breathed happily, taking in the sights of the Royal city. It had been ten years since he and Twyla had been here last. Perhaps, he thought, it would rekindle their romance. That had been part of the rationale that he’d brought her and their boisterous five year old daughter with them. It was a different hotel, one not catering to any given race. A balcony over looked a bustling street below, separated from the bedroom by only a thin purple curtain. Still, he couldn’t help but feel good about himself.

Ten years ago he’d been a trainee in squad 12 and now he was one of the higher ranked members. Dawn had taken a position in central command and Ponacht had been killed in the line of duty by a member of the Interplanetary Control Force who had been trying to find a particular Darkling. Gweyth had retired and Blacksun had had his leg amputated after a horrific accident. Narda and Starim were still around, with the former taking command of the squad. Both had pushed for the married man to represent them at the competition, especially since Twyla had been chosen to represent the culinary side of the Dark Moon.

The city was alive, and there was a certain excitement in the air. Through the window he could see people of all races milling below him, but even with that the races were keeping separate with only rare exceptions. To his surprise he even saw a Thunderian Lion, kept on a tight leash by his Icewalker owner. It was so unusual that he watched both until they walked around the corner.

He turned around and saw Twyla trying to corral Shade as she jumped from the double bed to the armchair. Both had wide smiles on their faces, so he knew he wouldn’t have to intervene yet. Finally he rescued his bag from their romping and dug out his ceremonial uniform that all the Darklings were wearing for the competitions. Black sleeves and leggings with a white torso, emblazoned with a dark red ‘12' to mark his squad. There was going to be a formal dinner at the open aired arena for all participants before the public ceremony the next day. A chance to get to meet the other competitors before the battles began.

“Daddy, watch!” Shade cried, ducking between Twyla’s legs and scooping up his sidewinder in a relatively graceful motion. It was, blessedly, unloaded anyway but he plucked it from her grip nonetheless.

“That’s not a toy,” he chastised lightly, putting it back in its case and setting it aside. “But when you’re older, you’ll be the best marksman the Dark Moon has ever seen.”

She beamed up at him, her yellow eyes sparkling with admiration despite the admonishment. With the sidewinder safely away he picked her up and kissed her forehead until she started to squirm and wriggled free. Once free she took off into the second bedroom where her bag of toys had been deposited, and soon sounds of play could be heard.

“You need to keep your weapons locked up better,” Twyla scolded, wiping some of the mirth from his mood. She’d been a little grouchy with him of late and it bothered him, especially since she was right more often than he’d care to admit to her.

“I know and I’m sorry. I’m just a little distracted. This is a big week for me, for both of us. Just think, the two of us once again representing our people on this moon. The whole system will be watching us.” Her expression softened a bit and she set about unpacking her clothes into the dressers provided.

He locked the case the sidewinder belonged in and put it up high in the closet for safe keeping and then joined her in unpacking. “Remember the last time we were here? This moon is where it all started for us.”

“It started before then, back in the bar after you caught those Mutants. You couldn’t keep your eyes off me all night,” Twyla replied. Those had been simpler times, the future was vast and full of possibilities. It still was, really, they were only in their late twenties, and yet they both seemed content in their career choices. Twyla’s restaurant was doing well, making a tidy profit every month, and squad 12 was still known as one of the finer squads. And if the years had started to affect them, they tried not to notice.

“Some things haven’t changed. Maybe once Shade settles down for the night we can reenact that first night?” He’d seen her pack a very similar black dress in her bag and smiled knowingly. She’d never really gotten rid of her pregnancy weight, but she was still beautiful to him.

“We’ll see,” she replied and finally pulled out her own ceremonial uniform and laid it out on the bed. “I should drop Shade off with Darmin.” Twyla vanished into the other bedroom to get Shade ready, no doubt, leaving Red Eye alone to change.

It wasn’t the answer he’d hoped for, but it was becoming a more common one of late. He knew some of it was jealousy that Shade seemed to love him more than her, but children did that kind of thing. Opportunities for intimacy had decreased with the birth of their daughter, even considering their limited time together with his career getting in the way, and he’d noticed that Twyla’s sex drive had dropped off. And yet he couldn’t be angry with her for it. The change between them had occurred so slowly that he felt almost powerless to reverse it.

The stress of working the restaurant didn’t help. They’d done well, largely, but it was the dishes Red Eye had invented that seemed to attract the most attention. He just hoped that the serving staff could handle things while they were away and that Twyla would be able to relax away from it all.

* * *

Red Eye and Twyla met Nuitache, a member of squad 47 and the husband of Darmin, in the lobby of the hotel. Like them he was in his ceremonial uniform and he smiled broadly at their approach. “Shade and our Phanta are having a great time. Amazing how children seem to get along,” he said.

“Jealous?” Red Eye asked.

“Nah. There are perks to being an adult. Have you checked the schedule yet? I’ve got some Icewalker in the opening round.”

“Lucky you. I’ve got a Graviton.” He’d done as much research as he could on possible weapons and strategies to use against all four of the other races. The biggest advantage of fighting an Icewalker was that the risk of an accidental fatality was low. The whole concept behind this competition was sportsmanship and to prove who the superior race was, but it was anticipated that more than one competitor would be killed by friendly fire. All of them had been briefed, and medical personnel would be on hand, but accidents happened.

Nuitache laughed and patted Red Eye on the shoulder. “You’d better remember your nose plugs then. Come on then, we’re going to be late.”

* * *

Their identifications got them through the first set of doors to the arena, where weapons searches were conducted. Psions and Icewalkers, of course, had natural abilities that couldn’t easily be taken away, but there were plenty of Guardians wandering around to stop the former and the Icewalkers were generally trustworthy enough not to start anything. This was a big event and no one wanted to disgrace their moon.

In the morning the arena floor would be converted into smaller zones, depending on the disciplines being tested, but for today there were simply rows of tables containing food. A band was playing soft music, but no one was dancing to it.

The three stuck together and made an attempt at mingling. It wasn’t easy. The Psions were perceived as being snobbish, the Gravitons as crude and foul smelling, the Icewalkers were arrogant, and the Royals were inferior. They finally settled on an Icewalker who was busy examining an ice sculpture centrepiece on one of the tables. “Was that made by your moon?” Twyla asked.

“Oh, I see. It’s an *ice* sculpture, so it must have been made by an Icewalker. For your information, no. My people would never produce such an inferior creation as that,” he replied, barely turning his head before wandering off.

“Don’t worry about him. He’s House Whitestar, they don’t like anyone,” a Graviton said from a little further along the table as if that answered everything. He was carefully balancing two plates on one arm while adding food with the other. “The name’s Tug Mug, I’m here for the hand to hand combat. Well, that and the food and the women. There are a lot of hot women around. You aren’t single or open minded, are you?”

Red Eye felt Twyla back up a step and immediately felt a mote of anger bubble up. “Certainly not. I’m Red Eye and this is my wife Twyla.”

The Graviton didn’t seem to notice the anger, or wasn’t bothered by it. “Red Eye, that name sounds familiar. I think you’re fighting my brother in the opening round. I’d wish you luck but, well, you know how it is. I’ve got to hand it to you Darklings, outside our moon you guys make some of the best food. I tried to get on the judging panel for the cooking competition, but they turned me down. Maybe next time.”

“Assuming there is a next time. Do you think Luna will host one of these again?” Nuitache asked.

“Depends on if she needs the support. It certainly appears as though it’s a popular event. And you can bet there’ll be four moons demanding rematches next year,” a Psion said, overhearing and wandering over to join them.

He hadn’t thought of that. Red Eye knew for one that he would want a second chance if he were to lose here, especially if it was to a non-Darkling. Would Luna convert it into a frequent event or would this serve to fuel the animosity between the moons? “Support for what? The Mutants are being quiet for once and I don’t see the Thunderians posing any threats,” he replied.

“Not today, but the Thunderians keep holding off the Mutants. You never know,” the Psion shrugged. He selected a thin wedge of cheese from the table and chewed it thoughtfully. “There’s Control too, if they ever wanted to get serious about our supposed crimes.”

“Bah, Control. Bunch of sissies, if you ask me,” Tug Mug said. “I’d love to see the day Control tries to arrest me.”

The music stopped abruptly and a loud horn blared, marking the entrance of Luna and Piscaar, the former astride Amok as usual. “Ladies and gentlemen. I’m glad you all came. Before I let you carry on with eating all my food, I wanted to remind you that if I suspect anyone of acting improperly during the tournament, intentionally killing, losing on purpose to win a bet, and so on, there will be dire consequences.” Amok pounded the ground and scowled around to let people know he would carry out the penalties himself if Luna asked.

“She wouldn’t be so tough without Amok,” Tug Mug grumbled. “I’d give my left leg to show her what happens to loud mouths on my moon.”

“What does happen to them?” Twyla asked before she could stop herself.

“They back up their words with fists. I didn’t get to this competition because of my rugged good looks, cutie,” he said, before waddling down the table to get even more food.

* * *

Present day

“Wait, what? Tug Mug had legs back then?” Black Tiger asked.

Chilla thought carefully for a moment, as though trying to remember specific details. “It was one of the stories of the tournament. A Royal Moon competitor used an illegal explosive device that left him with only stumps. There were four fatalities that day and numerous minor injuries, but his was the most gruesome. It’s amazing that they patched him up as well as they did. All things considered, it’s not a pretty sight. He flashed every one of us at some point to shock us. I had nightmares for a week after seeing it.” Black Tiger winced. There were just some things that she never wanted to see, and that was one of them.

* * *

100 years ago

The following day Red Eye stepped on to the arena floor and took a moment to see the crowd. Lunataks of all sorts, largely kept separate by race, filled the stands. He was not the focal point, however, not yet. If the pattern held true then the hand to hand combat would occupy the most attention, but there was a marksmanship competition taking place in the far section of the arena, and a display of art works being judged at the other. He had confidence that there would be enough people watching to make him nervous. Still, he was a seasoned squad member, and he could count on his personal experience helping him through the early jitters.

His name was called out over the public address system, as was that of his opponent, the Graviton named Rum Tum and he turned to meet the brother of Tug Mug. Like all Gravitons he was built short and round, but beneath all the layers of fat was the muscle to move it all. Many a combatant, he’d been told by Ponacht once, underestimated a Graviton and suffered for it.

When the horn blew again the two locked up, their hands interlocking and each trying to overpower the other. Despite his height and leverage advantage Red Eye was startled at how solid Rum Tum was. “Not what you expected, eh?” the rotund one sneered. He suddenly reversed the hold and used Red Eye’s own momentum to propel him over his shoulder. Red Eye crashed into the ground hard and only his training allowed him to roll to the side before Rum Tum could land on him.

“I won’t make that mistake twice,” he replied grimly. With strength on the Graviton’s side, and possibly speed, Red Eye knew that he would need to use his superior reach and hope that he possessed greater intellect. He would never hear the end of it from the squad if he were taken out in the first round. Placing in a thirty-two way tie for last would be embarrassing, especially since there were only five Darklings in the tournament to begin with and one had already won her match.

Red Eye swung his fist at the Graviton’s head, anticipating, and being proven right, that he would duck, and sharply brought his elbow back, cracking the man on the skull. It wasn’t a clean shot and it brought him closer than he’d like, but it allowed him to gauge Rum Tum’s reaction time. He was quick, jabbing his own fist into Red Eye’s mid-section, nearly blasting all the air out of his lungs. It was a little worrisome to be so far behind his opponent. Rum Tum was showing no ill effects from his head shot, while he was trying to make ground between them and catch his breath at the same time.

The crowd was jeering him, and a vulgar chant began echoing off the walls. Red Eye scowled and decided to change his tactics, he saw Rum Tum showboating to the audience and then begin to charge. Red Eye feigned confusion and stepped to the side at the last moment, kicking his leg at the back of Rum Tum’s knees. When the Graviton stumbled Red Eye jumped on his back, ignoring the greasy feel against his skin, and struck repeatedly with his forearms to the back of Rum Tum’s head.

This lasted until he whipped his head back, long horns catching Red Eye across his chest. Blood began pouring from the open wound and he was forced to step back to avoid being gored a second time. There was nothing technically illegal about using ones horns in combat, but since Darklings tended to have shorter horns he didn’t often think of using them. They were, in reflection, some kind of throwback to another day.

“Do you yield?” Rum Tum asked, pausing to shake his head clear of cobwebs.

“No,” he replied. The wound was shallow and looked nastier than it really was. He’d need stitches but that could wait. He was also grateful that he’d been assigned multiple uniforms if this was an indication of how messy they could get. Thus far his focus had been on Rum Tum’s head. The repeated strikes were having an effect, but not nearly enough of one as he would have liked.

“Good, I was hoping you’d say that.” Rum Tum backed up again and started to sprint at him again. It was too easy, Red Eye thought, the Graviton must have come up with a counter or he was stupid, and Red Eye figured it was the former. Rum Tum was hoping that he would step aside again and, in a moment of sudden clarity, he thought he knew why.

Red Eye obliged and was pleased when the Graviton stopped short, and swung his metal gauntlet in a downward arc that would surely have shattered his leg if he’d tried the same stunt. Rum Tum seemed stunned that his move hadn’t worked, and was doubly so when Red Eye’s fist crunched into his sternum, splitting both his metal chest plate and bruising Red Eye’s knuckles.

The match ended immediately as the Graviton toppled and paramedics poured out. Royal security forces rushed between them to ensure no further violence, though Red Eye bore no ill will towards his fallen foe. He’d put up a good fight, in the end. With the match over, Red Eye turned his gaze to the audience, trying to find where his wife and daughter would be sitting, but with the number of Darklings present it was impossible. It didn’t matter, he would see them later after he’d changed so that he could watch Shade during Twyla’s cooking competition.

* * *

“Daddy! You beat him good,” Shade cried, running up to him and jumping into his arms. He held her carefully away from his chest, which the doctors had hastily stitched up and was still sore to the touch.

“I nearly lost the fight, darling,” he said, setting her back down on the ground.

“You nearly lost more than that,” Twyla said darkly. She was dressed and ready for her competition, but he could read the concern in her voice. Would she be able to watch the rest of his bouts, knowing that there could be fatalities? Already a Psion had been sent to the hospital with a concussion that might have caused permanent brain damage.

“I wasn’t worried, you’re the best fighter,” Shade piped up, grinning proudly. It was hard to reflect on his mortality with such youthful optimism, and even Twyla had to smile at the strength of her confidence in him.

“And your mother is the best cook, and she’ll prove that in a few hours. You ready to go?” Twyla nodded and took her leave. Taking Shade’s hand, Red Eye led her to get something to eat before finding their seats.

* * *

To make things fair between competitors, each moon sent three teams to compete. The first round had the three teams cooking local dishes with the best team entering a round robin style tournament against the other moons. The menus for the second round featured ingredients native to neither moon. The two best teams would then prepare dinner for the royal family, allowing Luna to personally select the winner.

Judges were an equal mix from all the moons, but there was heavy suspicion that Luna would ensure that the Royal Moon picked up a victory in the finals if their team made it that far. In fact, there was a suspicion that most of the contests had Royal Lunataks in favourable pairings. Red Eye, actually, suspected otherwise. There was too great a chance for bias, and he felt that any time a Royal won any of the competitions the accusations would be there. If Luna was going to skew the results, he thought, there would be a five way tie to show that all the moons were equally important or some nonsense.

They found their seats, though Shade preferred his lap to the metal chair that was hers, and settled in to watch the show. A trio of Icewalker cooks were finishing up as they sat, remains of some hapless Thunderians lay on various preparation surfaces. He couldn’t wrap his head around eating an intelligent creature, but food was so scarce on the Ice Moon that just about anything that could be eaten was.

“Dad?” Shade asked, and for a moment he hoped she wouldn’t ask why the Icewalkers were eating dead people. “Why can’t mommy be a brave warrior like you?”

He swallowed hard, almost wishing now that she had asked about the Thunderians. Twyla had intimated that Shade idolized him, and he’d passed it off as a childish fantasy, but he didn’t realize the flip side of the problem. There was no easy answer, she wouldn’t understand that her mother had indeed been a very brave warrior, that in some ways she had his dream job. “Your mother is a very important woman,” he said, trying to pick out the right words. He made a note to contact his own parents and apologize to them if he’d asked such a difficult question. “A warrior can’t survive without food. If everyone plays their part then the empire runs smoothly.”

“Yeah, but anyone can cook, but not everyone can kick butt,” she said, eyes gleaming. If it were coming from an older person he would suspect they were doing so intentionally to provoke a reaction.

“You obviously forget about that stew I made last month,” he chided. She wrinkled her nose, the disastrous meal coming back to her. He’d tried mixing some towzer weeds in with a rabbit hoping that the latter would neutralize some of the bitterness in the former, but it had ended up leaving such a wicked aftertaste that he’d been sucking on mints for days just to rid himself of it. “Trust me. What your mother does is more important than what I do, and you should tell her that.”

Shade looked sceptical, but finally turned back to the drama in the kitchen area below. “Okay, but when I grow up I’m not going to do any boring cooking. I’m going to be a warrior just like you.”

* * *

Twyla and her team performed admirably as he knew they would, but she wasn’t nearly as proficient in the culinary arts as the other two teams, and it was Red Eye who had come up with the restaurant’s signature dishes. While the food certainly seemed to please the judges, it didn’t compare with the brilliance of the others.

Though upset, Twyla took the loss graciously. Red Eye knew the look on her face, though; she would be in a foul mood when they met up and would doubtless take her frustrations out on him. She had, after all, begged him to withdraw from the combat competition, one he wasn’t likely to win anyway, and help her in the kitchen. The only way he’d be able to avoid an ‘I told you so’ was to win himself.

Setting Shade on the ground, he ushered her to run on ahead and give her mother the same treatment he’d gotten after his gruelling match. Eager to please her parents more than out of a true desire, Shade scampered over and kissed Twyla on the cheek. “You did great, mommy!” she said, just as they’d rehearsed.

His wife smiled faintly for her sake and set her back on the ground. She was filthy, covered in sweat and cooking ingredients, clearly looking forward to getting back to the hotel and having a long soak in the bathtub. “I thought you deserved to win,” Red Eye added.

“No you don’t,” she sighed, trying to keep her voice level. “But it’s good of you to say so. Let’s just get home, you can watch Shade for an hour, can’t you?”

“And have dinner ready when you’re done.”

* * *

Dinner was an unmitigated disaster. Ordering Darkling fare from room service brought a fresh round of grief from Twyla as she saw dishes that she perceived as better than her own. To add to the problems, Shade confirmed that the fried vegetables were indeed better than the ones ‘mom’ had served the week before. Wisely, and perhaps a little selfishly, Red Eye took Shade out after dinner to wander the streets and give Twyla some alone time.

The streets were busy, people talking about the things they’d seen both live and on their televisions. The focus seemed to be on the day’s first casualty. A Royal had died on the combat field after Tug Mug had struck him a little too hard in the chest. The scuttlebutt was that he’d been suffering from a previously unmentioned illness, but many blamed the Graviton and accused him of murder.

When the following day’s incident with the explosive device that obliterated Tug Mug’s legs occurred there would be great debate as to whether or not it had been deserved. Red Eye saw the man being harassed by a pair of Icewalkers who clearly felt it had been intentional. The rotund one was at a bar trying to enjoy the several mugs of beer in front of him He seemed to be getting agitated, and rightly so Red Eye supposed. Sensing that things might get out of hand, and given the stiff penalty for brawling at the moment, Red Eye walked over. “Tug Mug, how’s your brother doing?” he asked. The Icewalkers sneered at him, but he ignored it. “Shade, I fought this man’s brother earlier today.” He hoped that having a child present might lessen the odds of violence. Icewalkers weren’t known for being the gentlest Lunataks, but they had standards.

Tug Mug looked a little surprised that he would intervene, but also a little relieved. If he were caught brawling he might be ejected from the tournament. “He’s doing well. The doctors say he’ll be back to himself in another two weeks or so.”

“That’s good. I’d hate to injure someone permanently. He fought well.” The Icewalkers seemed to catch on that they were being ignored and grumpily walked away.

“Let me buy you a drink. Least I can do. Barmaid! A beer for my friend here and his little angel.”

“Milk will do for her,” Red Eye chuckled, seeing Shade’s eyes widen at the prospect of alcohol. She probably thought of it as a warrior’s drink now. That was a lesson for another day.

“Whatever you say. Gravitons are born with beer bottles in their mouths. Who do you have tomorrow?” Tug Mug selected one of the many half empty mugs on his table and took a long swig of the brownish contents. “I’ve got some Royal called Areg, shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

That was overconfidence if ever he’d heard it. And Red Eye had to admit feeling a certain amount of apprehension at Tug Mug facing a second Royal after killing another. “I’ve got an Icewalker named Chilla. I hear Icewalkers are tricky.”

“They are, especially when they look like Chilla. I’d like to invite her over to my place and...” Shade’s eyes looked on in anticipation while Red Eye’s narrowed. “Show her my bacon collection?”

“May I see your bacon collection?” Shade asked.

Red Eye suspected that she somehow knew it was something she shouldn’t have and was responding to be obnoxious. “Not until you’re older,” he replied, ruffling her hair. They stayed drinking with Tug Mug for another hour before he decided that Twyla had had enough time, and that Shade should be in bed. He wished Tug Mug luck and returned to his room.

* * *

Getting ready the following morning Red Eye watched the events unfold. Tug Mug and Areg sparred for a little while and it became painfully obvious that Tug Mug was indeed going to win. Red Eye wondered who Areg had beaten to get to this stage and how, based purely on the performance.

Areg was bleeding profusely from his nose and his chest was heavily bruised, but then he stumbled on all fours and started messing with his boot. Tug Mug humoured him by giving him the space, as though a properly adjusted boot would make all the difference, but it did. Video replay showed him pulling something out of the side of the boot and hurling it at Tug Mug’s feet. The device exploded, sending chunks of flesh in all directions, accompanied by a pained scream.

Red Eye was grateful that Shade wasn’t in the room, she was playing some game with her dolls in her bedroom, but Twyla was and her gasp spoke volumes. They’d both seen horrific sights in their time in the squads, but this was so much worse. It was deliberate torture, and with it came the possibility that such an event could happen in Red Eye’s matches. Icewalkers weren’t known for such brutality, but anything was possible.

Instantly his mind began going over what was likely to happen as a result. Security would be doubled, for certain, and searches were bound to be more common. Any future matches between Royals and Gravitons, no matter the contest, would become more heavily scrutinized. There was also the question of how it would effect the tournament brackets. Someone was bound to get a free pass since there was no way Tug Mug would be able to compete.

He had another hour before he needed to be at the arena, so he watched the story unfold while getting himself ready. “You’re not competing still, are you?” Twyla asked, careful not to raise her voice too loud. Shade would find out all about the accident sooner or later, but let her be ignorant a little longer.

“I haven’t heard otherwise. I’ll be fine, they won’t let it happen twice; war would break out. And there’s Piscaar to tell us himself,” Red Eye said, pointing.

Indeed, the television showed that some intrepid reporter had managed to locate the king and was asking for a statement. “We know who did it, there are plenty of witnesses to this horrible crime, therefore Areg will be tortured to make sure there were no accomplices and then executed before the tournament finale, and if he had any help, then they will join him. We will not have our competition ruined by cowards and traitors.”

“You see? Everyone will be on their toes now.”

Twyla hugged him tight, a gesture far more intimate than any he’d seen from her in a long time. How disappointing that it had to be over such an issue. “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t come home. I know things haven’t been easy lately but... and Shade. My god I don’t know how I would explain that to her.”

He drew her lips to his and kissed her. “I promise you, I’ll never leave you.”

“Ew! You’re kissing again?” Shade said, peeking out from the doorway. Red Eye marvelled that she seemed to instinctively know when they were and managed to always be around to offer commentary.

“And I’ve got some for you too,” he chuckled. She squealed and sprinted back in the bedroom. He tackled her to the bed and planted kisses all over her face, hoping that he was right. The prospect of never seeing his daughter again terrified him.

* * *

The atmosphere in the arena was much different now. Each match that followed the fateful Tug Mug/Areg one served only to ratchet the tension levels. Up in the crowd, as Red Eye took to the field, he could feel the stony gaze of Icewalkers on him, wondering whether or not he would pull a similar stunt on their champion. He’d done his homework for several hours when he got home, after he’d spent some time comforting Twyla, and he knew that Chilla was indeed a rising star.

She wasn’t the best the Icewalkers had, a youngster from House Neijin who’d been forced to pull out of his opening round contest when he’d torn a hamstring was considered to be better. Even her bond mate and trainer was better, but he had other commitments to attend to. But he could see the potential in her. Chilla was observant and a quick study. Given a few years she would surpass both of them.

Grudgingly he had to concede that Tug Mug’s assessment was also right. His preferences, as was common among most Lunataks, was for women of his own race, but there was a certain beauty in her. She was strong and confident, just the kind of woman who was happiest in the thick of combat. She’d bloodied her previous opponent, a Psion, and done so with ease. He’d seen the pleasure in those eyes, she’d relished the taste of the man’s blood. He admired it.

Guilt settled in. He was married to Twyla, had promised to never leave her, and sexual thoughts about his opponent, the deceptively muscular woman standing across from him, would only distract him. She had weaknesses, he’d seen a tendency to act hastily in the video footage. It wasn’t much, but he could see traces of it, and might be able to exploit it.

* * *

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” Tug Mug said in response to Black Tiger’s questioning look. “If there’s one thing I understand about Chilla it’s that she respects fighters. She fell for Ren because he was so much better than she was and was a respectful winner. Instead of gloating he helped her to her feet, showed her what she did wrong and then found a new way to beat her.”

“Icewalkers are weird. I know they say you hurt the ones you love, but that’s ridiculous.”

He shrugged. “Some people don’t understand why Gravitons use so much food in our sex lives. It’s just a different culture. Though I wouldn’t mind wrestling with Chilla in buttered popcorn ring.”

Tug Mug’s eyes glazed over for a moment and he missed the slightly hurt look on Black Tiger’s face. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she’d always found Gravitons attractive. She wasn’t sure if she wanted a sex life that involved butter or popcorn, but she’d often wondered about it. She wondered suddenly how Tug Mug was able to have a sex life at all with his legs having been torn off. Perhaps his sexual organs hadn’t been affected? She wouldn’t ask. Some things were best left to the imagination.

“It was a good fight, I saw the replays later, it lasted a good twenty minutes with both of them bloody, sweaty and tired by the end. Neither one of them wanted to give up, but there had to be a winner, look up the footage if you ever get the chance. Finally Red Eye managed to sneak a punch in through her defences and knocked her out cold, if you’ll excuse the expression.”

“I thought only Icewalkers did ice puns.”

“And I thought I told you to excuse the expression.”

* * *

The third round was next and Red Eye stared at the brackets. Of the fifteen combatants able to compete there were only two Darklings, one Graviton, two Psions and ten Icewalkers. The betting lines had an all Icewalker final and he wasn’t nearly confident enough to put money on himself winning it all. The competition was good, and they were all showing the signs of two fights. Chilla had scored some wicked hits to his chest, right where Rum Tum’s horns had slashed, opening the wound up again. His legs and shoulders ached and there were supposed to be five more fights? Slowly he eased into the bathtub and let the water cover his muscles.

Luna would need to make changes to the format if she ever hosted games like these again. Either reduce the competitors or space them out longer. His moon wasn’t doing well overall, he thought. The culinary team had lost to the Psions, their best marksman had finished fourth and their science team wasn’t looking promising.

If either he or Nuitache were eliminated from the running it would look bleaker. Of course, if they both won their matches the next day then they would face one another in the following round with a trip to the semi-finals on the line. That was pressure and he didn’t know if he would feel right fighting a friend like that. But they both had opponents to deal with first. Nuitache had a Psion, but Red Eye had drawn another Icewalker.

A shudder rippled through the water, remembering the circumstances around Tug Mug’s injury. The Icewalkers wouldn’t dare, would they? Which reminded him in a roundabout way that he needed to visit Tug Mug in the hospital and see how he was doing. He actually found himself liking the man, even if he was from the wrong moon.

After his soak Twyla gave his back a good rubdown, massaging some of the kinks out. She didn’t know how bad he needed it, she was worried enough for his health as it was. More than once already she’d asked him to withdraw, and he couldn’t do it. There were too many people counting on him, and so he became more quiet about his pain.

* * *

He woke up in a hospital bed. The room was empty at the moment, though he could hear people moving around in the hall outside. How had he ended up in here, he wondered to himself. He’d been fighting the scrawny looking Icewalker, the one who looked like he should still be wearing diapers, and was trying not to underestimate him. Lightning quick arms and legs pounded on him from every angle, and his lean frame and speed made it almost impossible to hit him back.

Red Eye remembered a sizzling kick to the shoulder, rendering the arm numb, and a devastating shot to the left knee. He’d looked for only a second to make sure there was no bone jutting through the material and then... And then? Here. He turned his head to the side, and found the nurse call button. “You’re awake,” the nurse, a Royal Lunatak woman said matter-of-factly.

“Awake, but sore.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. You suffered a concussion along with fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and more bruises than you probably want to know. Your wife left an hour ago, but I’m sure she’ll be back.”

Red Eye experimentally moved his arms and looked down at the bandaged chest wound. Everything felt stiff and tender and his head still rang. He could well imagine the words Twyla had used before she left too and groaned inwardly. He was not going to hear the end of this.

* * *

Present day

“To make matters more insulting, three of the final four were Icewalkers. Brennen from House Blyzzard won and we never heard the end of it,” Red Eye sighed.

“I’ve heard of him,” Black Tiger said, trying to scrounge the tidbit of information from the back of her mind. There had been something unceremonious about his death, something embarrassing. It didn’t matter, she supposed.

“The Dark Moon did poorly in most of the competitions, but Bace Darkstar did win the piloting competition.”

“Now let’s move on to the event you’re best known for. The ‘Secret Invasion.’”

Red Eye settled back in his chair. He had to have expected this topic to come up. “It was about two years before I was promoted to central command. Shade had taken a spot in squad 12 with me and I made her a permanent member. Those were an incredible three years that we ran together. Twyla wasn’t happy, and in hindsight I think she was looking for a way out of the marriage when I left for Third Earth. I made so many mistakes with her, but not with Shade, and not that day. A number of squads were reporting strange occurrences around Nasalgiv, including us. We begged central command for help, and they agreed to send someone. It wasn’t what we expected.”

* * *

85 years ago

The first bad sign was seeing a ship that was not of Darkling design. Red Eye and Starim, who never seemed to have what it took to be promoted higher than he was, stood and watched what was very definitely a Psion ship land at the city’s space port. It didn’t bode well. Of the four other moons, Darklings and Psions seemed to get along well, but there was always an undercurrent of doubt, wondering what they were getting out of the bargain.

The door swung open and a Psion with stooped shoulders emerged. He was tall, as most of his race tended to be, with a thinning head of hair. He wore it long and seemed to be equally displeased at being here as Red Eye was to have him. “I’m Alluro. The high priests say that you need my superior skills?”

His hackles were raised. The Psions were ruled by their clerics and this screamed of pawning off a troublemaker. “We do. We think someone is using technology to hide from our patrols.”

“And you want me to do telepathic scans? It’s not really my forte, but it should be simple enough. Let’s get this over with.”

Red Eye agreed with the sentiment and gestured for him to follow. They entered an elevator and descended to the jungle floor. There were buildings here and there, including a small hotel for the rare guests to the city. The main streets, such as they were, had dim lighting but there was almost none the further out. Red Eye knew that one of their first objectives would be to get some sort of night vision equipment, otherwise Alluro would be walking around blind and would need a handler to prevent him from walking into too many trees.

Lights were on in the compound, however, and Alluro could deal with seeing nothing as Starim drove through the jungle roads. “It started about a month ago when we detected strange energy readings after a Mutant cruiser flew past. The Plundarrians claim they were heading to Thundera and swear they didn’t teleport any Mutants down, but we have no way to verify that. Soon reports came in from one of our compounds that they’d had a break in. Food and other things started disappearing from the city next, but we never caught the culprits,” Red Eye explained as they went.

It had to be the Mutants. That incident from when he’d started, when the Vultureman had escaped, was a part of it. They must have learned something useful from their recording devices after all. He told the story to Alluro, just in case it was pertinent information, and any other scrap that might be useful to him.. Very little of what he said was what he would consider ‘sensitive information’ and central command certainly hadn’t left instructions, trusting in his judgement.

Alluro sat in silence, absorbing it all. Red Eye wondered, as Starim began telling him about their own disappearances, what his angle in all of it was. Why had the Psions deemed him to be the one to send? Was he a spy of some sort, was he secretly reading their minds? He would have to scrounge up whatever information there was on this man when he got the chance.

It didn’t take them long to reach their compound. Red Eye recognized the area perfectly. The thorn bushes, the little patio Ponacht claimed to have installed in his first year, the greasy smell that accompanied their motor pool. Twenty years of working the same region, and he could almost identify every rock and tree. He understood now why the veterans were so valuable. If something was out of place, their odds of seeing it were greater.

Starim came to a stop in the garage, and Alluro’s body temperature indicated that he was a little more relaxed now that there was some light around him. Red Eye led their new helper out in to their foyer to meet the rest of the team. Shade was there, of course, cup of tea in her hands, Sochem was giving Pirellis’ rash a once over to make sure it hadn’t spread, and their newest member, Othest, was casually listening in to the general radio frequency as was her wont.

They were short staffed too, having lost a man a week before possibly due to whatever threat was out there, which infuriated him, but the number of people staying in the squad program had dropped a little. All the squads were feeling the pinch, and the government was considering upping the mandatory period to two years.

He turned his attention to Alluro. “I’m a hypnotist first and foremost, the best the Psion moon has to offer. I can do a little telepathy if I need to, but telekinesis is out,” the man explained. Red Eye knew a little about the race. Each Psion had some ability in each of the major disciplines, but often found themselves better at one than another. “The Psion government has sent me to assist with your invader problems.”

“So what’s the first step?” Shade asked, pushing herself away from the counter.

“Well, if you take me to the most recent incident I might be able to pick up a psychic residue. I don’t promise anything, and if it’s Mutants then it’s even less likely.”

Red Eye considered that. It was difficult to separate Darkling thieves from the mysterious thieves. Too much, lately, the media was blurring the line between the two, attributing the acts of the latter to the former. There had been one incident two days before that was probably them, though. “Sochem, see if we have a body suit that will fit Alluro and get a spare headset.” The young woman nodded and took off down the hall to the utility closet. The Psion looked about to protest, so Red Eye continued. “You’ll be a sitting duck and a liability to us if you aren’t wearing one. The enemy probably has infrared. Using you as a decoy to draw them out might work too, but let’s try this first.”

* * *

They set out immediately. As luck would have it there was a spare that would accommodate Alluro’s lanky frame. It was a little loose width wise, but it seemed to work fine. Starim drove them out to a mining camp that had reported the loss of a portable generator during the night. The local squad had already come and gone, as well as the police force, but both had turned up nothing. The one surveillance camera had been smashed to pieces.

The mining camp was merely an opening in the side of a slight hill, with a number of hastily erected buildings around it. There was a truck driving away with the latest shipment for processing leaving as they approached, but the majority of the people were below ground. One person who wasn’t was the boss of the operation, a dumpy woman named Myrk. She had probably been signing off the load the truck driver was delivering and walked over as they exited the hovercraft. “Another squad? I already told the... what’s that doing here?”

“Red Eye, field commander of squad 12. Central command asked us to bring in a specialist from another moon to help. I take full responsibility for him.” He watched her reaction. She wasn’t thrilled with foreign Lunataks being around, and he couldn’t blame her. They were collecting dasildium, a key component to the camouflage suit’s circuitry. If a spy were to learn how it was processed then there could be issues.

“Step into my office and we’ll talk further,” she grumped.

* * *

“He means it, you know,” Shade whispered to Alluro. “He’s fully responsible for anything you do. Which means if you try anything...” How she’d gotten so close without him noticing was amazing, though he supposed it had something to do with the ridiculous helmet he was wearing. There was no chatter coming in from the compound, where Starim was dutifully keeping watch with Othest, and the other two members of the team seemed content to stick close to the hovercraft. Shade, he suspected, was being creepy on purpose. She might try and pass it off as concern for her father’s reputation or something, but his instincts were rarely wrong.

“My assignment doesn’t include being threatened by children,” he replied evenly. The body suit, ironically enough, would cover up the nervousness he felt. Alluro was a long way from home with no friends at all. He didn’t even know if his government would back him up, he’d ruffled too many feathers with his superior attitude. It wasn’t his fault that he had the talent to support his boasts.

“It’s not a threat. It’s a fact,” Shade replied, walking back over to Pirellis and Sochem. He scowled and debated whether or not it was worth his time to get revenge. Probably not right now, but if an opportunity presented itself he would reconsider.

Red Eye and Myrk weren’t gone long. Red Eye had turned his headset off for the conversation, but it seemed that Myrk had finally conceded the point. She’d probably done a background check to make sure that they were indeed a licenced squad. “Alluro, you’re with me. The rest of you take a look around, see if there’s anything squad 19 missed.”

The hypnotist nodded and followed the squad leader and Myrk to a supply shack, hastily constructed and barely large enough for the equipment within. This, Myrk explained, was where they kept the generators when they weren’t in use. A long cable ran up to the top of a nearby tree to collect sunlight to charge their batteries. Two days ago she’d done inventory and there was one missing and none of her crew knew anything about it.

It wasn’t much to go on, and there had been far too many people around to make his job easy, but then if it was an easy job then the high priests wouldn’t have sent him. Alluro drew his psyche club from his hip and let its light bathe the immediate area. The strength of the club helped focus his mental powers. “If you’ll back up a little it will help,” he said softly, his mind already clearing of extraneous information.

He was right. His first impression was strongly of Darklings. About forty in all who had been within twenty metres of this exact spot, their wayward thoughts tainting the air. People didn’t realize how much they transmitted their thoughts, one reason why infant Psions had their powers neutralized was to prevent them being overwhelmed by them. Fear transmitted well, as did hatred, grief and passion. The stronger the emotion the louder the psychic imprint. He could taste the disdain coming from Myrk for him, the concern from some Darkling that he would be losing his job, another lusted after a colleague. There was so much background noise that he found it difficult to concentrate.

Sifting through the voices he caught a faint impression of fear. Someone worried about being caught. He tried to concentrate harder on it, but it was old and blotted by other thoughts. Finally he pulled back to the real world and saw Red Eye and Myrk still watching him intently. “There was definitely someone here. I’m guessing one person. They were worried about being caught and what might happen to them if they were. It didn’t feel like an employee, for what it’s worth,” he said, replacing the psyche club on his hip. “There’s been too much activity in the area to tell you any more than that.”

“It’s a promising start, anyway. We’ll find the thief next time they make a move,” Red Eye said.

* * *

They’d barely been back on the road for more than a few minutes when a new call came in. Sochem turned on to a different road at the first opportunity and soon they arrived at the outskirts of Nasalgiv. A body stood face first against a tree, pool of blood at their feet. The local authorities were busily examining the scene. Red Eye gestured the rest of his team to stay put until he spoke with the police, and exited the vehicle.

The body was that of a middle-aged man, and he was held against the tree by a wicked looking knife through the neck. Red Eye watched as a trio of officers carefully removed it and lowered him to the ground. “Somrak? They sent you?” The use of a name he hadn’t used in almost twenty-five years startled him, and then he saw one of the veterans approaching.

He recognized that lopsided grin even after all these years. “Joren,” he said. He’d often wondered what had happened to his former competitor.

“Man, central command said they were sending one of their best, I never imagined it would be you. How’re you doing?” Joren asked.

“Better than him,” Red Eye said, indicating the dead body.

“Yeah, well. Poor sap was found by some woman coming home from visiting in-laws in another city. We’ve taken her back to the station, but we’ll get you her statement. You’re more than welcome to come take a look. What?” Joren paused, seeing Red Eye was distracted. Something on his headset from the looks of it.

“Are you sure? Fine.” A decision having been reached, Red Eye turned his attention back to Joren. “We’ve been assigned a Psion to help us, he thinks he can speed up the investigation.”

“A Psion? What’s the moon coming to when we count on them to do our job. Fine, bring in your man.”

* * *

Red Eye’s description was an exaggeration, Alluro thought as he emerged. Pirellis had asked about his ability to read a dead person’s mind and then, when Alluro hesitated, suggested that the job was too difficult to perform. Alluro had, foolishly perhaps, taken the bait. The truth was that a dead person’s mind could be read if it were gotten to in time. One could witness the deceased’s last moments, but there was tremendous risk especially to one who didn’t consider himself a telepath of great skill. More than one telepath had suffered a kind of sympathetic psychic shock and died from the experience. Doubtless Pirellis knew the risks as well, and wouldn’t shed a tear if something were to happen to him.

He wouldn’t let on to them that he was nervous. Instead he strode purposefully over to the fallen Darkling. There was a surprising amount of blood on the ground and his lunch threatened to eject itself from his stomach. Alluro forced the thought aside. This wasn’t that complicated a process, he could do it. Touching his psyche club to help focus his power he knelt down and concentrated on the man in front of him.

* * *

He was walking through the jungle, grateful to get away from his nagging wife for a few minutes. When he’d married her she’d been hot and more than willing in bed. Then she’d gotten older and looked as though someone had beat her with the ugly stick. Then the nagging had grown louder, or else it had always been there and he’d just never noticed. Either way, he was stuck with her for now. Sooner or later he would have to come home and deal with it, but not yet.

He heard a noise up ahead and turned, fearing for a moment that his wife had decided to follow him this time. No, it sounded like multiple voices. Curiosity getting the best of him he crept closer. He saw a box on the ground, but no sign of whomever had been speaking. Carefully looking about, his infrared glasses showing no one around at all, he walked over to the crate and started to open it. A pair of computers were inside, he thought, even with the infrared on..

Fear began to mount, he instinctively knew that he’d just walked in on thieves. But where were they? Hands roughly forced him against a tree. “Your unlucky day, idiot,” someone rasped.

* * *

Alluro tried to withdraw as quickly as he could. The man, whoever he was, wouldn’t have lived long after the knife strike anyway. Two sets of eyes were watching him and he knew he looked pale. “Your victim interrupted some computer thieves, I couldn’t tell what kind or where they got it from. They must have had some kind of camouflage, because he couldn’t see anyone around,” he said, telling them as much as he could remember about the encounter. It didn’t feel like a Mutant attack, probably just some local Darklings.

“Computer thieves? There haven’t been any break ins reported yet, but it’s early yet. I’ll keep you posted if you want,” Joren shrugged.

Red Eye nodded. “And before you ask, I don’t sense any other psychic residue right now. The fear and pain off this one is too intense.” It was like trying to hear a whisper over a jet engine. People didn’t understand the Psionic disciplines very well and usually expected far too much out of them. It was an image the high priests liked to maintain to instill fear in the other races. He never saw the point. Their real powers were just as impressive.

“Thank you for your help, Joren. I’ll let central command know,” Red Eye said, turning back for the hovercraft and their compound.

* * *

The ride back to the compound was uneventful, Red Eye mulled over the information they had thus far and couldn’t make any solid conclusions. There were too many unknowns going on and very little concrete. While Shade prepared dinner he had Starim pull all the data they had. Perhaps if they could see it all at once he might be able to find something. Certainly the fresh set of eyes would be of use.

He wasn’t sure what to make of Alluro yet. While he was cocky and arrogant, he also knew his stuff. The reading of the dead man’s mind had helped a little. They knew what was stolen and Alluro had now heard a voice. There was the remotest of possibilities that he would recognize the voice if he should hear it again. “The problem is,” he said, as Shade brought plates of stew out, “is that we don’t know which events are connected to the Mutants attack.”

“I don’t think it is the Mutants. It’s not in character for them. If they were behind all this then there would be more violent murders, more obvious signs of their presence. Mutants aren’t very subtle. It’s even entirely possible that there isn’t one group behind all this,” Alluro said. “Certainly that Darkling against the tree wasn’t. It was too stealthy for Mutant.”

He was right, and it was a possibility that both Red Eye and central command had discussed at great length. The only reason they suspected the Mutants at all was the fly by they’d made. Perhaps they had been telling the truth, but they wouldn’t be getting an apology for the harassment. Mutants knew better than to travel too close to the moons. Of course, if they weren’t involved, then who was? He looked at the map again, trying to see a pattern in the numbered dots on its surface. “We suspect there is something going on. The number of unsolved mysteries doubled in a month. That’s not co-incidence.”

“If the Mutants aren’t behind it, then who? Lunataks? Control officers? Thunderians?” Othest asked.

“I don’t know much about these Thunderians, but they would have a hard time getting to the Dark Moon. Control might have slipped in. A prolonged stakeout might be the kind of thing they’d engage in,” Red Eye conceded.

“Or it could be a rogue squad,” Alluro said.

Shade slammed a fist on the table, nearly sending her bowl flying. “That’s impossible, no self respecting Darkling would do that.”

“Is it so unlikely? They would have access to the technology, they would know their way around the cities. They’d also be the least likely suspects.” Alluro barely hesitated in his response. Red Eye caught Shade’s eye to let the Psion finish. At this point any theory was worth considering.

“So we eliminate the Mutants and suspect just about everyone else. Wonderful,” Starim sighed. “What’s the next step? We can’t just wander to every crime scene in the area, can we?”

“That might be our best bet, short term. All the previous crime scenes have gone cold, and all the squads are out searching their areas. If any of them spot anything we’ll know. Let’s keep one person on the general frequency at all times then. Shade, show Alluro to his room,” Red Eye said. He walked to the radio and took the first shift.

* * *

Alluro wasn’t sure what to make of his escort. Red Eye seemed decent and relatively competent, a man didn’t get to his rank without being the latter at least, but his daughter was weird. All through dinner she’d been watching him. It was as though she expected him to betray them all at a moment’s notice, as if she would catch him if he really was trying anything.

The truth was, the high priests hadn’t given him any real instructions. He was to spend a few days on this inhospitable moon, longer if need be, and help them if he could. They had said nothing about spying or sabotage. No instructions on what not to say. They either trusted him to know better or didn’t really care. “Here we are,” Shade said, coming to an abrupt halt. The compound really wasn’t that big, a collection of small bedrooms, a garage, the central hub which included a kitchen area, a bathroom and some storage. She lowered her voice suddenly. “My bedroom is right next door and I’m a very light sleeper.”

Which was a relief. For one horrifying moment there he had thought she was hitting on him. He could understand why she might be, but he wasn’t sure how to gently let down someone he might have to rely on later. “That’s good to know. I snore.” He slipped in to his room and began unpacking his meagre belongings. The perpetual dark of the moon was throwing him off. Even though the clock indicated it was still early, he felt like it was night. The small window showed only the faintest outlines of trees encroaching on the building. He settled himself on the lower bunk and dreaded when he went to sleep. He was a good foot taller than the bed accommodated, it would mean a night of contorting his body to fit. In the meantime he picked up the book he was working his way through and began to read.

* * *

Morning came, and with it came the daily duties. Red Eye had handed off the radio duties to Sochem who had passed them on to Othest and so on. Currently Pirellis was listening in. He shook his head in response to his squad leader’s silent question. Minor things were happening, but nothing that sounded like it was connected to their work.

Red Eye sent a two person patrol, freeing the rest of the team to continue working on the bigger picture. Central command had volunteered to dispatch other teams to fill in, but his people knew the area better than anyone else did. He wanted people like that, who would notice more quickly if something was off. For the time being he had assigned himself to monitor the duo’s radio traffic.

Their guest slept in past nine, stumbling out only when Shade went in to make sure he hadn’t snuck away. Alluro rubbed at his eyes. “What’s for breakfast?” he asked..

Shade gestured to the cupboards. “Help yourself. We’ve been meaning to stock up, but I guess we’re supposed to feed you.” There was, however, the constant companion of the squad; the coffee maker. Pirellis was the official maker of the coffee, mostly because he consumed so much of it. It was strong and most of the squad found it sharpened their senses first thing in the morning.

“Incoming message from Joren for you, sir,” Othest said from her general frequency station.

He switched places with Shade, walking briskly to his room. There was a communication device in there and he activated it. Immediately Joren’s face appeared. He looked as though he’d just wakened, his clothes were dishevelled and there was fatigue in his eyes. “Red, I got some bad news for you. Someone hacked our computers. We caught it happening and stopped it, but we’re still trying to figure out how it happened. Looks like they were digging through Coallus’ file, probably seeing if we’d learned anything.”

“Damn. I’ll be there shortly.” He walked into the hall. Taking Alluro was probably a security risk, he needed his four person team in operation, and Shade would insist that the Psion needed a chaperone. “Othest, you’re in charge until Starim gets back. Joren needs me at the precinct. Whoever killed Coallus last night managed to hack into the police records. I’ll be back when I can.”

* * *

From the bushes a pair of unfriendly eyes watched Red Eye leave. That left four inside the compound including the threat, and two of them were distracted with the radios. Slowly she moved to the closed window to Alluro’s room and slipped inside. A few minutes later the trap was set and the threat Alluro posed would be no more.

* * *

When Red Eye was gone there wasn’t much for Alluro to do, so he settled at the table, aware that Shade was always keeping a vague eye on him. The only way he was going to get away from this moon, and the hostility, was to solve the case. If he could narrow down the options, find some pattern that they couldn’t, then it might bring them closer to an answer. The trouble with the Dark Moon was that there was so little natural light that one needed to rely almost exclusively on infrared. Inside the cities it was another matter, but Darklings preferred dimmed lighting for their streets so even then there wasn’t much.

There was the possibility of setting up motion detectors. But they would have to be tied to an infrared scanner, so that they would know if it was simply a wild animal or a leaf or something. Perhaps if they were remotely tied in to a central location then flood lamps could be added, to illuminate the suspects. That particular trick would only be useful once before they figured it out. Ideas for such a system were already percolating, so he got up. He would jot them down before he forgot them.

* * *

“It started about four hours ago. One of our computers detected an intruder. My team moved quickly and started countermeasures. As I said over the radio, we were able to determine what they were looking at, and it’s the file on Coallus. I guess they wanted to know what we’d found out and whether we had any suspects,” Joren said evenly when Red Eye arrived. They were standing in front of a bank of computers with Darklings in front of most of them. Each Darkling logged in under their own password and then could access the network.

“You didn’t trace it back to its source?” Red Eye asked.

“We tried, but once they realized we knew they were there they ended the connection abruptly. This was the only file they were after, too.”

“Maybe they’ve been more careful in the past, or it’s isolated.” Red Eye rubbed his temples. He wasn’t sure whether he should hope for the latter or the former. Probably the latter; the former implied they were dealing a very crafty and computer savvy individual who had gotten sloppy once. Both options made it more likely that a Mutant was not involved. He’d heard that the Vulturemen were fairly intelligent, but even they were as subtle as a brick.

“Either way. My team called me at home and I figured I should pass it on to you. I spoke to central command too, just to keep them up to date.” Joren sat at one of the stations and called up Coallus’ file. There wasn’t much there, a mention of the woman who’d found the body and her testimony, a description of the lack of evidence apart from the knife, and Alluro’s psychic reading. “We got a call from an electronics store saying they had a break in last night. Two high end computers disappeared, so it looks like your man is right. Damn, I still can’t believe central command would bring in a Psion. What did Ponacht use to call them? Worthless desert worms?”

“Because you can never trust one, yeah. Poor old Ponacht. Just a second.” Red Eye heard his radio go off. “Go ahead? Dammit, is everyone okay? Understood. Joren, you’ll want to bring your people. We had an explosion at the compound.”

* * *

For once Alluro was grateful for his shadow. His hand had just keyed open the lock to his door when Shade tackled him to the ground. This was followed immediately by a horrific explosion that rocked the building. Debris tumbled around them and he heard the startled screams of those who had been working the radios.

The compound was sturdily built, even if it didn’t look terribly impressive. The same structure had been in place, according to the stories, for forty years. Alluro stared around him blearily. There was incredible weight on his chest and something dripping. There were voices now, people trying to find him or Shade. He could still move his arm somewhat and found the handle of his psyche club. With any luck the crystal hadn’t shattered when he’d fallen.

It hadn’t. The light allowed him to see that it was both Shade and a large steel slab on top of him. The dripping was from a wicked gash in Shade’s head, dark purple blood that was making its way through her hair and down her ear to his chest. She was completely out of it, which he suspected was for the best. How had she known?

The infrared goggles! She wore them around him intentionally to bother him, to tell when he was lying she claimed. She must have seen the explosive device attached to the door. It was a shame she hadn’t seen it a little sooner, but it still probably saved his life. It disgusted him that, of all people, he owed his life to her, but at the moment he was just grateful to be alive.

“Look, light!” he faintly heard a voice say. The search team had seen the glow of his psyche club, yet another blessing, even though they were likely to have looked under the debris. If nothing else it confirmed that they were alive. At least he hoped Shade was alive. She was breathing, now that he thought about it, he could feel her warm breath on his body.

Something above him shifted, momentarily pressing both metal and Shade harder against him before letting up again. Soon there was more light as more and more pieces of twisted metal were eased off of him. “They’re both in here,” Othest said, appearing in Alluro’s line of sight momentarily before turning her head to Sochem. “Do either of you need a doctor?”

“Shade does. I’m not sure about me,” he replied.

“You probably do then,” Sochem replied as the two women finished moving the largest piece off of them. “But Shade’ll be our priority. Proper medical teams are on the way, and Red Eye’s going to want to know what happened.”

So would I, Alluro thought to himself. Very carefully, so as not to disturb her more than they had to, the two women lifted Shade off of him and transported her down the hall. Now that he could see better, Alluro could see that as powerful a blast as it had been, only the four bedrooms at the rear of the building and the bathroom had been damaged.

He sat up slowly and began the tentative process of checking himself for injuries. He’d whacked his head and back against the floor, but it didn’t feel severe. His chest was sore from the difficulty in breathing and there were several minor cuts and abrasions. Nothing seemed broken, which was a blessing at least. Othest came back. “I’m supposed to help you to one of the bedrooms,” she said, offering her hand.

Wrapping her arm around his chest and helping to brace him as he took a few unsteady steps they slowly made their way down the hall. “Sochem’d know better than I, but I’m guessing it’s mostly a lack of circulation and shock. You’re lucky. We found what looks like the bottom half of a door, probably mine. Don’t know what happened to the top half.” She took him in to an empty bedroom across from Red Eye’s and settled him on the lower bunk. “What was Shade doing on top of you? You weren’t...”

Her voice trailed off. She didn’t really think that they would be intimate in the middle of a hallway, surely. He could see the thought process dismiss that as a possibility. “You’d have to ask her. I’d barely unlocked my door when she tackled me. I heard the explosion and everything tumbled around me. She must have seen the bomb at the last minute. I assume the police are on the way too?”

“That’s right. You going to be all right for a few minutes? I’m going to check to see if Sochem needs my help.” He waved her away and leaned back. It had all been so sudden, the impact of Shade’s body, the noise level, and debris. He was lucky that his head hadn’t been squashed like a grape by some piece of metal. In fact, the heavy piece of metal, whatever it had been, probably saved him too. It had doubtless gotten caught on something. He wasn’t a terribly religious man, much to his uncle Auralias’ dismay, but he figured he would make an offering at the temple to Cyris when he got home.

He would also have to take a shower the next chance he got, wearing Shade’s blood was not much of a fashion statement, but that would probably have to wait until at least the police spoke to him. Or longer, depending on how much damage the bathroom had taken. There was probably a water supply in the garage, or the kitchen sink at worst.

They were getting close to something. Whoever had done this had targeted him specifically. The bomb had been on his door and would have blown the top half of his body off if Othest was right about the state of her door, which meant that someone feared him in particular. He had a high opinion of himself, but hadn’t thought he’d reached ‘fear’ levels with people yet. It was almost flattering to be the target of an assassination attempt, strangely enough.

He heard the sounds of Starim and Pirellis arriving back at the compound, their motorcycles coming to a screeching halt. Footsteps pounded through the hall and Pirellis took a quick peek in at him. “Red Eye should be here shortly. How’s Shade?” he could hear Starim ask. The responses were muffled by the distance and the walls, but it certainly didn’t sound like Starim was thrilled.

Alluro was curious what the general reaction from the others in the squad would be concerning all of this. By and large they resented his presence, a veiled suggestion that they were incapable of doing their jobs mixed in with the natural prejudices between the moons. Shade’s had been the most openly hostile, but Starim and Sochem had been guilty of it too. Red Eye seemed to accept his help, while Othest and Pirellis were friendlier about it. All in all it would bear watching, if for curiosity than nothing else. Deciding that he could learn more if he was in the opposite bedroom, he stood. His limbs seemed more willing to co-operate now, hinting that Othest’s assessment was probably right.

* * *

Shade was awake, though her head hurt like crazy. She tried to explain what had happened, and was getting tired of repeating the story first for Sochem, then for Starim, and then for Red Eye and Joren. She’d seen Alluro reaching the door, had noticed the strangely shaped object on the doorjamb, had known instinctively that it was patently ‘not a good thing.’ There hadn’t been any logical thought process involved, it had been strictly impulsive.

Deep down, if she had had to decide, she would have saved Alluro’s life anyway. He was under her squad’s protection and it would look very bad on both the squad and her father if something happened to him. She didn’t trust the Psion, given a choice he would be sent back to his moon on the next available shuttle, preferably strapped to the wing, but he was a temporary member of the team and she would deal with it.

A paramedic was examining her head wound, giving her a brief respite from all the questions. They would insist on taking her to the hospital but she planned on refusing unless ordered otherwise. She needed to be involved, she wanted to catch the bastards who’d nearly killed her. Besides, when they found out they’d missed their target they might try again. “That’s it!” the doctor scowled as her head whipped up. “Dad, I know how we can nail the bastards.”

“How?” Red Eye wandered over. They’d fought for a little on what title to use. She couldn’t call him by name, and he didn’t like being called by rank. ‘Dad’ seemed to be the best option, though even that felt awkward at times.

The doctor resumed his inspection of the wound. “Take Alluro to the hospital. Whoever did this obviously wants him dead. If they figure they didn’t then they might try and finish the job.” The hospital was a controlled location, too. They could position hidden cameras to get a good clean image of their attackers, and station people nearby. Heck, if she was going to be forced into being at the hospital anyway.

Her father seemed to be thinking in the same direction. No one had been outside, Alluro wouldn’t have been visible if anyone was watching. She could see him weighing the options. “I say go for it. We’ll go outside and talk a little loudly that we have to get him there quickly, that he’s in critical condition.”

“I thought you said I wouldn’t be a decoy. But now that you mention it, I might have suffered some internal injuries,” Alluro said snidely. Carefully he lay down on a stretcher that the paramedics brought in.

“Just missing one thing and you’re ready to go,” Shade said, smearing blood on his face. It was an act that she knew would annoy him but also nauseated her. She’d lost a lot of blood as it was, and only the fact that Sochem was at her side prevented her from completely collapsing.

“You’re next in the ambulance, young lady,” Red Eye said. She knew the look, he wouldn’t accept any arguments on the issue. “Joren, we’ll need to get equipment in position in his room. Can you arrange that?”

“I can. I’ll use code in case we’ve got anyone listening in,” the detective nodded.

And there was another point. Anyone with a hacker capable of getting in to a police database might have the equipment necessary to listen to emergency channels. Red Eye would accompany them, as it wouldn’t be unusual for a father to stay by his daughter’s side, leaving Starim in charge of helping the other detectives inspect the area.

* * *

Of all the sights that a father dreaded, his daughter’s face covered in blood ranked up there. Seeing her still antagonising Alluro meant that she was still doing relatively fine, but he would feel a lot better after she’d been looked at properly in a medical facility. They would make sure that her room and Alluro’s were as close as possible, and there would be all kinds of undercover people both inside and outside.

Starim would make sure the right information got to the press as well, just in case the suspect or suspects weren’t on hand. Shade’s plan was sound. Using Alluro was probably not entirely what he’d been assigned to them for, but it was their best option at the moment.

They arrived at the hospital in no time, after swearing the staff to silence on the truth. Alluro was hooked up to all kinds of machines, replicating the image that he was in dire straights. He had his psyche club under the blanket with him, and there was a Darkling in hiding in another bed behind a screen. There were a myriad of tiny cameras and a powerful lamp by Alluro’s bed that had its own power supply on the off chance that they cut the power to the building.

Everything was in place, now all they needed to do was wait, and waiting was the one thing he didn’t want to do. Shade was being closely examined, by the doctors for possible trauma. A host of worst-case scenarios were running through his head, including the lecture Twyla would give him when she found out about this.

Twyla. A second groan rumbled through him. He would need to call Twyla soon or the lecture would be twice as long. Deciding there was no point in delaying the inevitable, especially since there was nothing he could do for either of his squad members, and because the news would be reporting the incident soon enough, he walked a short distance away from the examination room and made the call

* * *

Alluro felt the same way he had when the high priests had brought him in to see how strong his powers were. When a Psion was born, a priest would block their powers, but also record the potential. When they reached puberty they were inspected again. Children whose abilities looked promising tended to get the better education. Alluro could remember vividly standing in the middle of a room, looking at a dozen elderly gentlemen. His powers were significant and all the high priests wanted to confirm the prospects.

His mind had been laid bare before twelve probing Psions, his every experience viewed, and the centre of his brain that governed his hypnosis was poked and prodded. It was like being in a crowded room while naked, it was uncomfortable and ranked among his more embarrassing moments. That probably marked the beginning of his dislike for the hierarchy. He resisted their orders as much as he dared and turned down a position in their illustrious company. How they thought any of their bullying was useful was beyond him.

But in the hospital he was a target, laying in a hospital gown out in the open, waiting for some knife wielding maniac to come in to slit his throat. How long would it take, it had been at least two hours already, and could he use the club in time? Would the sensors catch them or would the officer in the next bed just be there to say hey “Yeah, he’s dead. Oops, sorry.” It wasn’t reassuring to put ones faith in either technology or others, especially when said ‘others’ weren’t fond of him to begin with.

The high priests would be wanting a report soon too. How would he bring this incident up? The answer was he wouldn’t if he didn’t live through it. A world without reports. He snorted silently, remembering that he was supposed to be in critical condition, there was a benefit to being dead after all.

The door opened and his heart jumped for a second. Was this it? Was this the bomber? No, it was only the doctor he’d been speaking with at the compound. He pretended to be looking at the chart and then made a show of replacing the bandage on his head. “In case you wondered, Shade’s probably going to be fine. A few cracked ribs, nasty bump all stitched up,” he whispered and then wandered away again.

So, Shade had survived too. On the Psion Moon such a sloppy assassin would be punished severely. He’d heard the horror stories, and they helped inspire other assassins. Perhaps it had even been a Psion who’d tried to kill him at the compound. He wouldn’t put it past the high priests to stage an assassination as an excuse to go to war. Psions and Darklings generally got along, but politics was everything. If the high priests thought they’d be better off with a war, they would do it. And that would be a kick in the teeth. A co-incidental assassination attempt. With nothing else to do but wait, boredom overtook him and Alluro gradually drifted in to an uneasy sleep.

* * *

There was trouble in the hospital and it had nothing to do with their mystery assailants. Red Eye could see Twyla approaching from a mile away, could see the anger radiating off of her as she stomped up to the door he stood outside of. The doctors were conducting one more test on Shade and he was just getting in the way. “I warned you this might happen,” Twyla kept her voice low, which meant that she was really angry, not just anger masking fear. “I told you to encourage her to take up a different career, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“I let her decide for herself,” he said. People were pretending not to be watching, and he really had other things that needed his attention. “She’s a grown woman. We can’t make all her decisions anymore. She’s safer with me than in another squad.”

“She is, is she? Our baby nearly gets blown up and you call that safe? In another squad she would be, what, shredded to pieces?”

“Like you nearly were? I saved your life that day.” The faint scar could only be seen in the right lighting, but he knew it was there. He always made sure to kiss it when they made love, a reminder of how fleeting life could be. It had been awhile. It was also getting rarer that he found time to even go home, excuses kept cropping up. Too much work, especially when they were shorthanded. Sometimes he felt guilty for that.

“Funny how the women around you suffer, isn’t it,” Twyla opened the door to see Shade. She was laying on her bed, while a nurse took a blood sample. The doctor was performing a test to see if there had been any effect on Shade’s short term memory. “My poor baby. I came as soon as I could.” Twyla hugged Shade close to her.

“I’m going to be fine, mom. Don’t worry,” Shade said, flushing a little.

An alarm went off, causing both Shade and Red Eye to jump. “They’re attacking,” Red Eye said, pushing past Twyla and sprinting down the hall, Shade in hot pursuit.

* * *

Alluro was having a pleasant dream. He was back on the Psion Moon in his lab, working on a new invention that would revolutionize his morning routines. A simple machine that would make his bed for him, the stumbling block being to get it to fluff his pillows just right. It was, too often, ripping them in two. If he could only clear that hurdle...

Even if one was wearing a camouflage suit, one still needed to be conscious that there were other senses. Alluro was aware that someone else was entering the room. There was a subtle scrape of his room’s window being opened, a sudden gust of wind that carried with it the smell of perspiration. He gave it a few seconds longer, letting the assassin enter the room, before reacting. The psyche club was in motion even as Alluro threw back the sheet, its crystal soaring over the startled intruder, casting pale blue light on them. “You will stay put, I am your superior in every way imaginable. You haven’t a chance of resisting me.”

The Darkling in the other bed moved next, coming around and pointing his sidewinder at the attacker. He walked closer, relieved the man of a knife and manhandled him in to a chair. Red Eye and Shade burst in along with a trio of police. With the suspect subdued, Alluro relinquished his control. When the man’s head gear was removed he noticed the colour of the man’s skin. “An Icewalker?” he said, confused.

The uniform he wore was similar to the one he’d been given by Red Eye. It obviously had some sort of camouflage capabilities in the infrared spectrum. An Icewalker was an aggravating outcome. The fact that it was one of them meant that they would need to tread very carefully to avoid a war. Icewalkers were big on honour and pride too, so getting information out of him would be like pulling teeth. Of course, seeing the man explained why Coallus had heard such a raspy voice. The harsh air of the Ice Moon did terrible things to their vocal chords.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” Red Eye asked.

Whoever he was, he didn’t care to answer the question. He stared in defiance at Red Eye. He might break eventually, but it would be a long and tiring process. By that point it might be too late. Now that the Darklings had one of their own, assuming there was more than just one person involved in this mess, they would probably speed up their operations. Which meant it was up to Alluro to speed up the process on their end. “Open your mind to me, Icewalker. I’m Alluro, master hypnotist and the man you tried to kill. As you can imagine, I’m not happy about that. You are going to answer every question we ask or I will rip the information from your brain. Believe me, it will be very unpleasant if I have to do that.” The defiant look remained, though Alluro thought he could see a mote of fear in those eyes.

“Do it,” Red Eye said when Alluro looked to him for permission. This wasn’t his moon, he was out of anything that might be considered to be his jurisdiction.

Alluro aimed the psyche club at the Icewalker, letting its light once again bask over him. “Who are you?” he repeated Red Eye’s question. There was resistence, but it was insignificant to him. “His name is Holin, from House Myntaello. His brain is trying to give me a lame cover story involving visiting his girlfriend and falling out her hospital window. I really hope he doesn’t expect me to believe it.”

He pulled his attention back a little. There was such pain obvious on his face and yet he was being surprisingly quiet about the ordeal. Most of the people he’d seen in this position were screaming in agony by now. “Last chance before I find out your real purpose.”

“Go to hell,” Holin spat.

“Not very creative. Have it your way.” Alluro poured his full focus back on the man, mentally sifting through his mind, not being overly gentle with it either. “He’s on the bottom of the totem pole of a group of six Icewalkers and two Thunderian slaves. They’re testing some new technology on your moon. He’s the one who planted the bomb in my room, and his superiors sent him to finish the job. Their base is about thirty miles north of Nasalgiv.”

“Near the forbidden place,” Shade whispered.

Alluro had never heard of such, and he could see that none of the Darklings seemed about to elaborate so he filed it away and turned his attention back on the Icewalker. “He has a vehicle nearby and thinks that if he doesn’t come back they might scrub the mission. It’s not an invasion, it’s more of a prelude to an invasion, make sure the technology works before committing to anything full scale.” He paused, catching a reference that Holin was trying to keep away from him. “His suit has a feature he’s not using. It allows him to blend in with his surroundings. It uses a lot of power so they try not to use it. That’s why they had to steal that generator.”

“Can you get the outfit off him?” Red Eye asked.

“No problem at all. I just hope he wears something underneath it.”

* * *

Present day

“The outfit really was impressive,” Red Eye explained. “We think now that the Mutants who escaped my first week on the job ran in to an Icewalker patrol. The Icewalkers must have accessed the data off the recording device and managed to come up with the technology we found on Holin.”

“And the Mutants weren’t lying when they said that they hadn’t transported any Mutants to the Dark Moon,” Black Tiger said. “They just omitted that they *had* transported Icewalkers. Okay, then what happened?”

“We had a rough location, but ‘thirty miles that way’ isn’t very specific. Luckily of all the Psions they could have sent, they sent Alluro.”

* * *

85 years ago

“That’s amazing. I can barely see you and you’re standing in front of me,” Pirellis exclaimed, when they gathered back at what was left of their compound. Starim and Red Eye were busily co-ordinating the positioning of the other squads, but if they couldn’t pierce the suit’s camouflaging they would be vulnerable. Shade, reluctantly cleared for duty, was content to show off the new toy.

“Now put the mask on,” Shade’s disembodied voice said. Pirellis took the helmet from where Alluro was examining it and put it on. There was a startled gasp and she knew what the man was seeing. She and her father had tried it on and had been equally amazed. The mask transmitted data to the brain, allowing the wearer to see the same in total darkness as they could in broad daylight. There were controls on the headband that allowed one to modulate it, allowing one to see infrared and a half dozen other spectrums. The mask couldn’t penetrate the suit she wore, but it did just about everything else, including their regular camouflage gear.

“It shouldn’t be hard to counteract, actually. The mask generates a particular impulse when it’s in use. Given time I could jury rig something that would detect them.,” Alluro said. “Red Eye’s mechanical eyes probably could do it with a little touching up. They’re designed to pick up many impulses as it is.”

“Really? You could do that?” Alluro chuckled. It was a blessing to Shade that she was effectively invisible at the moment, the shocked look on her face would have been priceless. She fiddled with the controls and became visible again. “What about our headsets? They’ve got infrared too.”

As if he hadn’t thought of that. They were similar and would take a lot more work. Red Eye’s were custom designed to help him see. His brain was used to receiving impulses of varying sorts, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to add a new signal, but what about the average Darkling? They used the goggles often, but it was a slightly different circumstance. And what about Shade? Would there be any carryover from her father? One thing was certain, if he could design something, then he wouldn’t want to wear them for longer than he had to. The use of infrared glasses was starting to give him a mild headache. “I’ll let you know. May I see the mask again?”

Dutifully Pirellis removed it and handed it back to the hypnotist while Shade went to report the progress to Red Eye and Starim. Now he had to hope he could live up to his promises.

* * *

Red Eye was troubled as deeper night fell on his moon. The Icewalkers were operating at or near the forbidden area. Was that intentional or purely co-incidental? His gut suggested the former rather than the latter which meant that they had a good spy network in place.

The forbidden area was an especially dense region of trees that formed a protective dome over a similarly shaped structure. If one went past the door one could see a set of stairs leading down. After that no one knew what lay beyond. Whatever power lay within also drove those who came near it mad. Red Eye had never seen it for himself, though he of course had heard all the stories, but he had seen video footage of a gibbering fool that had been found nearby. It was required viewing for the commanders of the assorted squads, a lesson in the dangers of the region.

The man, or what was left of him, was thin as a sapling and had smeared his body with faeces. When he wasn’t muttering incoherently, he screamed loudly about ancient spirits and pools of still water. He said once that he could see the future, a future of gods fighting gods and Lunataks eating their own flesh.

Four days later he made his first suicide attempt, ripping at his intestines with his hands. After the sixth day he screamed something about a mist that he wanted to be rid of and bashed his skull against the wall. He died from the injuries.

But the power, whatever was down there, was too tempting. Every year people were chased away. The one who could harness it might be able to conquer the moons. The price wasn’t worth it. Scientists had declared it too dangerous and the government made it illegal for anyone to try, though even that didn’t seem to prevent people from trying.

Were the Icewalkers foolish enough to try or were they counting on the nature of the place to keep unwanted visitors away? If the Icewalkers found a way to get the power source... He shook his head. If it was co-incidence then they might have stumbled across it anyway. He needed to make sure they never left the moon alive, but it wouldn’t be easy. A structure concealed by their camouflage technology would be impossible to find. They could be in the middle of an enemy encampment and not know it until they were caught in a crossfire. The only hope was Alluro’s intellect.

Red Eye had loaned the scientist his spare set of eyes, one never knew when they would need to be repaired, while Othest watched. She was the most technologically inclined of his group and she actually got along with Alluro reasonably well. If he needed a second opinion she’d be best suited, and was the most likely to catch a double-cross. All they had to go on was Alluro’s word that those were Holin’s thoughts.

* * *

“Are you accusing us?” Chilla hissed, her blue eyes narrowing dangerously. “Because if you are we might take it very badly.” The call from Joren, chief detective for the city of Nasalgiv, had come in moments ago and she did not appreciate the tone of his voice.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” he said, though she heard the ‘yet’ hanging in the sentence. “All I’m doing is letting you know that one of your people was found on our moon and claiming to be testing secret equipment with other Icewalkers.”

The truth was, as powerful as her family currently was, she really didn’t know much about the actions of all the Houses. The Ice Moon was governed by its most powerful families and, though House Myntaello wasn’t particularly powerful, there were any number of Houses that Holin might have been working with. This man from the Dark Moon didn’t need to know that, however. “Release him in to our custody and I will make sure that we get to the bottom of his betrayal,” she said crisply.

“I can’t do so that at this time,” he said and she scowled. She hadn’t really expected him to do so. The Ice Moon wouldn’t have were the roles reversed. Were they reversed Holin would doubtless be dead once they felt they’d gotten all the information they could out of him. “He’s a suspect in our investigation at the moment. If you want him back sooner you’ll have to get a royal edict.”

“I will, count on it.” She terminated the connection and then began making other calls.

* * *

The news the following morning was impatience from central command. They wanted the Icewalkers captured quickly along with any technology they might possess. Shade woke to hear her father using words that he would have spanked her for using. The gist seemed to be that if they went out looking for Icewalkers before they had the technology to find them, they would be slaughtered.

She agreed wholeheartedly. Central command was getting desperate and were throwing them under the bus. And for what? The off chance that they might be able to hit them with lucky shots? Shade wanted the Icewalkers as much as they did, knowing that if they scrubbed the mission and got away that they would have little to show for their accomplishments, but there was a fine line between determination and stupidity.

There was a slam and Red Eye stomped out in to the kitchen area. “We have our orders. Three squads will move in on the rumoured location in five hours,” he snarled. “Alluro, how’s the progress?”

The hypnotist rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Your new eyes are ready, I think. They haven’t been tested yet, obviously. I’ve barely even started working on the headsets. I’ll do the best I can.” He’d worked most of the night, catching only a few hours of sleep in the early morning. Othest had crashed at some point, her head slumped on the table, soft snoring creating a strange background noise.

“Keep working, please,” Red Eye scooped up the mechanical eyes and Shade went to change in to the Icewalker suit. They would be in a battle scenario where potentially only two people would have an advantage. The suit was baggy on her lithe frame, but it was better than nothing.

A few minutes later Red Eye emerged from his room. He didn’t look much different, but the new eyes were clearly unpleasant. He covered them momentarily, trying to clear away the signals. “I don’t want to be wearing these long,” he said. He gestured for her to activate the suit and she faded from sight. “And it doesn’t work. Five hours from now we meet the enemy and these don’t work. Alluro!”

“Tell Shade to turn on the mask. Your eyes are designed to pick up the impulses from the mask,” the hypnotist said in exasperation.

* * *

It was an amazing difference. Beforehand he’d seen nothing but what was left of the corridor behind where Shade had been standing. He could see the debris, and even a tiny blotch of blood leftover. Now there was a blotchy outline of a person. The mask generated a field of some strange impulses that showed the outline of everything around it. It was astounding, like a bat using echoes to determine where objects were in relation to it.

If the impulses weren’t causing him a wicked headache he would be a lot happier. And yet... His head turned to the north. “I see them.”

“What do you mean? They’re here?” Shade asked. He heard her sidewinder slide out of its sheath.

“The Icewalkers. I can see them. One of them is going to the bathroom, another is walking around a large building. This is impossible, isn’t it Alluro?” he asked.

He heard the scrape of Alluro’s chair being pushed back. “I haven’t had a chance to study these impulses, but maybe if they’re strong enough. I didn’t expect this kind of result. I hesitate to find out how they’ll react to the headsets.”

Red Eye switched back to regular vision and watched the Psion make himself another mug of coffee. He was right. If the strange impulses were hurting him this much, and he was used to such things, then how would any of his people adapt to them? The other alternative was a suicide solo mission, and he didn’t think even his skills were up to the task. Eight on one were not good odds even if he had surprise on his side.

Obviously he wasn’t the only one thinking in that direction. “If the rest of us can’t see the Icewalkers, we’ll have to count on you to tag them. But how? The suit camouflages weapons carried by the wearer,” Pirellis said. “And if none of us can see them we might as well cut our throats now and save them the bother.”

“That’s not going to get these headsets done any faster,” Alluro replied, settling back down at the table and taking a long pull of his coffee.

“He’s right. I’m going to go outside and get used to this mask if anyone needs me, shout.” Shade vanished outside before Red Eye could stop her. He hadn’t yet decided who would wear the Icewalker suit or if, indeed, it would be used. It would be useful to have it, if Alluro couldn’t come up with something, but if it got retaken by the Icewalkers then the Darkling science team wouldn’t have a chance to duplicate it.

If Alluro couldn’t do it, then the mission would become a two person operation. Shade would follow him regardless, he knew. Perhaps leaving her in the suit was for the best. She would be safer in it, and she wasn’t a bad fighter. Starim might object, might even file an official complaint with central command that Red Eye was playing favourites, but he didn’t think that would matter much if he ended up dead.

* * *

The hours were ticking by painfully fast. Alluro had yet to be able to rig the headsets with anything that might detect the impulses from the Icewalker masks. Shade had returned, satisfied with her abilities, and was currently taking a nap. The other two squads, ‘marked for death’ as Pirellis had cheerfully called them, had arrived and Red Eye was talking strategy with their commanders.

It was frustrating, the solution was in front of him but he just couldn’t see it. The headsets were picking up the signals but weren’t translating them in any way for the Lunatak mind to decipher. Perhaps it would be possible if he could surgically remove other people’s eyes and replace them with the same mechanical eyes that Red Eye had.

“We leave in an hour,” Starim said evenly.

“It’s a fool’s errand and I recommend against it. I certainly have no intention of going. The best I might be able to do is program one of your motorcycle computers to detect the impulses. After that the rest of you are blind,” Alluro set the headset he was working on down. Perhaps if they were all carrying monitors around he could figure something out, but co-ordinating what they saw on the screens with their actions would take much more practice than less than an hour would allow.

“Do it. I’d say it’s been a pleasure working with you, but it wouldn’t be honest.” The feeling was mutual. Once this was over he would go back to the Psion Moon. If the Icewalkers were conducting this kind of test on the Dark Moon then there was nothing saying they weren’t doing similar on the Psion. He could turn his attentions to protecting his home moon and let the Icewalkers and Darklings kill each other off. He might even walk out of this building with some added goodies to show the high priests. It was a shame that some half-decent Lunataks would be killed. If all Darklings were more like Othest and Pirellis he might have worked a little harder.

“As you wish,” he replied at length, gathering his equipment and moving to the hovercraft.

* * *

An hour later Alluro watched the speeding hovercraft and motocycles disappear in to the thick of the jungle, leaving him alone in the compound. Slowly he walked around, gathering up anything he thought might prove useful back on the Psion Moon. There was a motorcycle in the garage, which he planned to borrow to take him in to Nasalgiv. Obtaining a ship back to his home moon from there would be tricky, he’d stay at the hotel if need be. He wondered how things would go down for Red Eye and Shade, whether he would see them again. The former especially, he would like to work with the Darkling again some day, perhaps even explore strange new worlds with him. Fight alongside him against a common foe. Maybe someday.

* * *

Present day

“You did not think anything like that,” Black Tiger squinted her eyes.

“Some Psions are blessed with something like precognition,” Alluro replied innocently. “I happened to have a moment of it, what can I say?”

“Sure you did.”

* * *

85 years ago

Squad 12 took the rear of the journey, keeping Red Eye in the middle of the pack as much as was possible. He would be their greatest asset and the only realistic hope of getting anyone out alive. Shade kept to the rear of the line, wearing the Icewalker suit which rendered her and her motorcycle effectively invisible. She wouldn’t be able to see any of the Icewalkers herself, but her onboard computer would tell her where the Icewalker building was. With luck they would catch some of the Icewalkers inside before they could don their masks.

It was a very basic plan. Get close to them and the other Darklings would follow Red Eye’s lead in targeting. The hardest thing, once Shade began her part of the plan, would be avoiding riddling his own daughter with laser fire. It was a fear that had presented itself in the discussion phase, and one he was ashamed that he hadn’t come up with.

He was trying to avoid thinking about that possibility, a fate worse than his own death, by trying to get his body used to the powerful impulses. There were three people actively using their gear, and two of them seemed to be hurriedly working on something near the structure. The third was probably on patrol, based on his movements. His head jerked up and he ran over to the other two. “We’ve been detected,” he warned the others over their headsets. It was probably their engines. One of the reasons the Darklings preferred travelling on foot was that motorized vehicles made far too much noise.

It was a lesson he’d seen played out on at least two occasions with ships that had crashed on his moon. Fools who thought they were safer in the proximity of their vehicles were actually drawing attention to themselves. But they needed their motorcycles to get them closer to the Icewalkers, foolish or not.

They were only a mile away now and he was feeling more and more vulnerable. If the enemy was aware of them it would only be a matter of time before they mobilized for them. Indeed, as he watched, trying to keep his eyes both on the makeshift road and on enemy movements, two more people activated their masks and emerged from the structure. They would have weapons drawn, for certain.

He glanced back, saw Shade veering off to take a different route, hopefully to the rear of the building, and wished her luck. If she didn’t come back alive, Twyla would never forgive him. They were coming up to the first of the Icewalkers. “Evasive manoeuvres,” he called out as a predictable dark purple image registered on the infrared. A thick patch of ice appeared in front of the motorcycles, sending several in to trees and one another’s bikes.

* * *

Shade marked the location of the structure on the motorcycle’s computer and dismounted. The rest of the journey would have to be done on foot if she hoped to have the element of surprise. She ran as fast as she could, years of training giving her stamina and an athletic physique. It was easier than she’d anticipated to stay on course. The modified scanner had shown a particular cluster of trees on one side, growing very close to whatever the structure was. She felt sure that if she kept herself pointed at those trees she would reach the structure in no time at all, and hopefully be able to find it from there.

Branches whipped past and she had to be careful to avoid logs, rocks and other debris. It did occur to her, mid-stride, that there could be an Icewalker in similar gear and she wouldn’t know it until she crashed in to him.

She pulled up short as she got closer to the designated trees and started feeling in front of her blindly. “How do they find their base,” she asked herself. “They must have some way of finding their way back inside. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.” Her fingers brushed against something solid. There it was, she grinned. It felt like a canvas material, probably made of the same stuff as the masks. Now if she could find a door she would be set. Keeping her eyes peeled for any change in the feel of it, and keeping her touch light so as not to alert anyone inside, she walked along the outside and nearly stumbled inside.

* * *

Red Eye felt helpless. He watched as man after man was taken out. His sidewinder and his missiles were on target, but the Icewalkers clearly recognized the situation, that there was only one Darkling who could see them. They obviously only had two energy weapons as the three remaining Icewalkers were using ice breath to give their snipers easier targets. The ice, at least, showed up on infrared and could theoretically be avoided. They, like the Darklings, were avoiding using fire out of fear of starting a jungle fire.

Othest cried out, impaled through the chest by an Icewalker blade, causing him to wheel around, surprised to see that one had gotten close enough to engage in hand to hand combat. He’d forgotten that there were supposed to be six Icewalkers. The woman was headed straight for him, her blade still dripping blood.

Crouching low he drew his pacifier. It wasn’t really designed for a bladed weapon, but it was all he had at the moment. The Icewalker slashed at his chest, which he blocked easily. It was only a feint, a move designed to keep his hands away from his face. He fancied for a second that he could make out a devilish grin before she breathed a long stream of ice the covered him head to toe.

* * *

Present day

“You’re connected to him? I knew you were old, but wow,” Black Tiger said. When she’d started the project her father had suggested that she talk to the Thundercats as well, get their stories too, create a balanced version of things. She’d expected they would only have stories post-arrival on Third Earth, but now she found herself staring at the blind old Lynx-O.

“Oh no, not me. My grandfather. When I was just a cub he told me how he was kidnapped from his home by fearsome raiders. Now that I’ve met the Lunataks I am reasonably certain that they were the Icewalkers. He said that he owed his life to a blonde haired woman. They managed to remember the specifications of those suits and I would later adapt the technology for my braille board.”

* * *

85 years ago

Shade admitted to a certain amount of disappointment. Inside the room were only two Lynx, chained at the throat to a work table. There were a half dozen blankets laid out on the floor and assorted pieces of equipment that she couldn’t even begin to guess at the use of. She had really been hoping for an Icewalker or something, not the easy kill that these two would be. The fight wasn’t going well out there, she could hear the updates on her headset. She deactivated her suit and walked over to the pair. “Is there some way to turn off those suits?” she asked.

They looked scared, and had every reason to be, Thunderians were not well treated by Lunataks. Ever. They also weren’t answering, which she found irritating. Didn’t they know what their circumstances were... Actually, they probably didn’t. “Do you know what we do with prisoners?” she asked slowly. “It’s a lot cleaner than what the Icewalkers do. When they’re done with you, they’ll cook you for dinner.” That struck a chord. They’d obviously heard such rumours already, maybe even seen it too. They were wavering, she could see that. They just needed a bit more of a push.

* * *

His people were being shot down at will now, Red Eye cursed, and all he could do was watch helplessly from his icy prison. They’d killed two of the Icewalkers, but that still left four of them out there. He knew why they were keeping him alive. They wanted to know how their shielding had been pierced, and it was the only thing that made sense.

He wasn’t sure if being made to watch was any better. Starim’s throat was slashed open, another Darkling found her entrails spilling out. Things were looking more and more grim as every second passed by. He couldn’t see Shade any more, which lowered his spirits even more. Suddenly something collided with him and he was falling. As the ice around him cracked he saw Pirellis grinning at him. “Time for you to rejoin the fight, boss.”

A quick look around and Red Eye found his first target, the Icewalker who had frozen him earlier. She was, temporarily, unaware that he was freed and he used that to his advantage, firing off his sidewinder, not caring for the moment if the fire hit the trees. The fight was practically lost anyway, and he couldn’t let the Icewalkers get away with it. She screamed in pain, her naturally cold body reacting poorly to the fire.

* * *

“Those are my people out there, dying, my friends, my father. Help me.” Shade had always heard that Thunderians were loyal to a fault, it was her only hope without resorting to her last card.

“You’ll kill us if we do,” one of the Lynx said.

Which meant that she had no choice. Red Eye might be furious with her for doing it, but... “And the Icewalkers will kill you if you don’t, but fine. I can’t promise you much, but I will do everything I can to get you off this moon. I don’t have a lot of sway, but my father is high ranking enough and I do have some control of him. Help me save him and I’ll try and save you.”

* * *

Red Eye wasn’t sure what was happening. The two Icewalkers with laser rifles were doing a good job of keeping himself and Pirellis pinned down. The third was trying to get to the woman who was hovering in mid-air on fire. A fourth suit activated, near where the structure was. For a moment he dared let himself believe that it was Shade. Her headset had been quiet ever since she’d abandoned her motorcycle, which he could only hope was intentional.

The fourth suited person approached the laser wielding Icewalkers and struck them with some blunt object. He stopped himself just short of screaming Shade’s name in relief. There was still one Icewalker left standing and he was only just noticing that his cover fire had stopped. “Stay here,” Red Eye instructed Pirellis.

* * *

Present day

“After that, it was a simple matter of mopping up the mess,” Red Eye said, Shade was there too, looking rather pleased with how the story had turned out. And why not? She’d been just as instrumental as her father, though most people gave Red Eye credit. Of the eighteen Darklings who’d left that day only four returned, and one of those had been badly injured. Pirellis would transfer to take command of one of the now vacant squads and all three squads would be filled with trainees. It wasn’t easy, but Red Eye had been a good teacher.

“What we didn’t realize immediately, was that of course the Icewalkers would have to have some way of knowing where each other were, and where their base was. We actually suspect, in hindsight, that Holin must have lost his because it certainly wasn’t on him. The Lynx gave me one of theirs, though, a wristband that detected the same impulses we tuned dad’s eyes to pick up. If we’d had one of those to begin with, I wonder whether Alluro could have duplicated it or not,” Shade said.

“Either way. The government wasn’t thrilled with Shade’s promise, but we seemed to satisfy them with the capture of three of the six Icewalkers plus Holin, and all the technology they had in the canvas structure. We sent the Lynx with our next raid on Thundera and left it at that.”

“Two years later dad was promoted to central command, which put him in the right place for Queen Luna’s voyage to Third Earth. What a disaster that turned out to be,” Shade said, shaking her head, and with good reason. That trip had ended in an eighty year entombment in molten lava.


	3. Chapter 3

Seeing Red by Jonathan James Prideaux

Living on Third Earth

Present day

“My trip to Third Earth, not one of my prouder moments, no,” Luna sighed. She had hoped that telling Black Tiger stories about Red Eye would either make him look bad or make her look good. Unfortunately, one of the key moments in his life was neither, in fact it was just the opposite. But it was all common knowledge and there was no point in holding anything back. Besides, there were four other people on board that ship.

“We left the Moons of Plundarr with one goal in mind, find my grandmother’s magical belt and defeat Mumm-Rana. We didn’t anticipate there being a second powerful wizard. The crew of the Excelsior was chosen from the greatest each of the moons had to offer, which probably says more about the state of the empire if those were really the best we could find. It was an era when the moons needed something to focus on, and Mumm-Rana seemed like the perfect choice.”

* * *

81 years ago

“There it is; Third Earth. Somewhere on that insignificant planet lies the belt and my ultimate triumph,” Luna said as she stared out the window of her bedroom. The little blue planet spun slowly, and she could feel a thrill of anticipation. How many times had she sat on her grandmother’s knee and heard the stories of her conquests? Creatures that called themselves ‘Wollos’ and ‘Bulkins.’ Robotic bears known as Berbils and an entire culture of warrior women. None of them had posed even the slightest challenge to the original Queen Luna.

Only one had done so. Mumm-Rana, a name that stirred the blood in her veins, the name of the foul creature who claimed to be a force of goodness. It was the name of the sorceress who had placed a terrible curse on grandmother Luna and all her descendants.

She looked at her legs, scarcely strong enough to bear the weight of her body, including a grotesquely oversized head. Her mother had borne the curse stoically, but Luna intended to do something about it. “Amok, to the bridge.”

The brutish Guardian, her only trusted friend in the world, turned from the window and stomped down the hall. She wasn’t sure where she would be without him, someone so utterly loyal to her. She didn’t even trust her own husband, and wondered how Piscaar was ruling the Moons of Plundarr in her absence.

They were all there, representatives from each of the moons as she’d ordered. They would board a shuttle and be the first to set foot on their new planet, do a little reconnaissance and maybe establish a base of operations. It was a political move, she conceded mentally. Allow each moon to have a representative on that first voyage and none of them would feel like she was playing favourites. She was sure they would jockey to see who got to exit the shuttle second, and didn’t care. She would be first.

“Find the pyramid. Grandmother said there was a pyramid that Mumm-Rana lived in. It shouldn’t be that hard to find,” Luna said. All early reports indicated very few habited areas, and none with significant technology. Seventy years was a long time since her grandmother had been here, and only the Berbils had once possessed space flight capabilities. There was an entire planet of the wretched things, but these ones either had crashed or had no interest in returning.

“Pyramid located, your majesty, along with heavy storm activity,” the captain said.

“Excellent. The four of you are dismissed, we leave for the surface in an hour.”

* * *

Shade was in a state. Ever since they had come within visual range of Third Earth she had been acting strangely. When Luna made her pronouncement she stopped her father in the hallway. “Don’t ask me to explain it, but there’s something wrong; I can feel it in my bones. There’s,” she paused, searching for the right words to say. “It feels like someone is watching me. Someone so foul and evil that it’s making me nervous. Something is going to happen down there, back down, let Nuitache go instead.”

“I understand,” Red Eye said, pulling her close in a hug. He felt warm and comforting, he’d always had that effect on her. Some people found it odd, but she’d always had that kind of relationship with him. But the feeling lingered, she couldn’t put her finger on why or how she knew, she just did. “You’re worried about me. I’m leaving to an unknown planet, and we know what that planet did to the previous Queen Luna.”

She shook her head vigorously. “It’s not that, I trust you to take care of yourself, and this Luna has the might of the Lunar empire behind her. But this is nothing like we think it is. Luna says Mumm-Rana is an agent of goodness, but this feels like the opposite. The strongest evil I’ve ever felt, it’s not safe...”

Red Eye placed his fingers over her lips, silencing her. “I have to go. To not go would be cowardice. I love you, Shade. I’ll see you on the surface.”

“You’re right. I love you too.”

* * *

Present day

“I wouldn’t see him again for eighty years. I watched from the bridge of the ship as he disappeared from my life forever. I never got over it,” Shade stared out the window of Sky Tomb. There was pain behind those eyes, a memory that never faded with time.

“You don’t have to talk about it any more if you don’t want,” Black Tiger said sympathetically. She couldn’t imagine going through that. It scared her enough every time her father left on some military mission. “Tug Mug and Alluro told me what happened inside that shuttle.”

* * *

81 years ago

“There are heavy storms in the area, Luna, I don’t think I can land us safely near that pyramid,” Alluro said, staring at the instruments of the shuttle. To his trained eyes it looked like there might be a connection between the pyramid and the storms. If Mumm-Rana was a sorceress, then maybe she was generating them. They knew so little about the nature of magic, that it was hard to pin limits to it. He held the shuttle in position a short distance from the Excelsior. “I think that mountainous area might be the closest I can get us safely.”

“We’ll have to walk it from there, or fly the shuttle low,” Tug Mug said, tapping on the arm rest. “Seems a small price to avoid decorating the scenery.”

Amok grunted, never a good sound to Alluro’s ears as it signified he was picking up on Luna’s irritation. “Fine. Our revenge can wait a little longer, blasted storms. Take us in.”

He didn’t reply, Alluro angled the shuttle to clear the stormy region by a good mark and began his descent. The upper atmosphere was a little bumpy, which was very curious. Perhaps he’d miscalculated just how large the storm was. And yet... “The storm’s moving! Alluro, you idiot, you didn’t factor in the wind.” Chilla hissed, her cool misty breath causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. He had though. The storm was stationary, there was no wind a minute ago. But storms didn’t act that way.

“I don’t think it’s natural,” he said, trying to correct it. “Mumm-Rana must be behind this.”

“Correct our course then,” Luna said, stating the obvious. He chose not to say as much right now. She might not have Amok thrash him now, but they had to land eventually. Hopefully in one piece.

There was a problem, a very dire one. The controls weren’t responding to his commands. As panic began to settle in, he activated the radio. “Alluro to Excelsior. Something has gone wrong. I can’t control the ship.” He heard screaming behind him, shouted insults, and the sound of the storm buffeting the little shuttle. Sparks flew from the console. “I’ve lost navigation. I calculate the integrity down to thirty percent. It’s like someone else is flying us, like a giant hand holding on and pulling us down. My God, we’re going to crash!” His eyes widened as the mountain range they had been aiming for, loomed much closer than he would like. The shuttle struck the side of the volcano.

* * *

How am I still alive? That was the first thought to cross Red Eye’s mind. Realistically he knew that they hadn’t been down long, the rain seeping through the smashed window had barely gotten him moist. But they couldn’t stay put, they needed to get moving. Mumm-Rana had stripped Queen Luna of her powers, stealing her height and health with them. What would she do to them now that they had returned?

He unfastened his seat belt and looked over at his companions. They were starting to stir too, which was a good thing. He would need all the help he could get if the priestess was going to attack. How much help could they expect to get from the Excelsior too?

“Everyone outside,” Chilla said. “We need to find shelter.”

“I am in command here.” Luna sounded weakened. If only Amok had been injured too they might have considered arguing with her. “But you’re probably right. Amok, outside boy.”

It wasn’t much better outside. The rain was coming down, and the lightning strikes felt as though they were all around them. The landscape was fairly desolate, the victim of these volcanos, he figured. They were near the base of one of these, surrounded by jagged rocks and stubby grass. There didn’t seem to be any obvious places to go, except for maybe a forested region in the distance. Perhaps a cave would present itself if they tried the mountains.

“This way!” Luna called. She’d selected the forest, though it was very likely that she didn’t have any idea if that was the safer route or not any more than the rest of them.

Safe. Shade had warned him that it wasn’t safe and he’d brushed her concerns off as though they were the worries of a child afraid of the dark. He’d never treated her so dismissively and now it looked like he might not get a chance to create a new final memory. He would apologize to her when he saw her again.

They hadn’t gone very far when a particularly large bolt of lightning struck the ground in front of them, stopping them in their tracks. Where the bolt had touched, the ground smouldered, and the air filled with a mocking laugh. A large blue/grey figure hovered in the air, red cape flapping wildly in the wind with matching eyes watching them. “So these are the invaders, eh?” the creature asked. This did not look like the ‘Mumm-Rana’ they’d been warned about.

“I am Luna, queen of the Lunataks, and I demand you return my grandmother’s belt,” Luna said, bringing about another round of laughter from the demon.

“You demand of Mumm-Ra? Mumm-Ra the ever living?” Great. There were two of them. Siblings perhaps, spouses. Whatever the relationship didn’t matter to him. Red Eye made a quick mental calculation on the trajectory he would have to fire his missiles if he was given the order. There was still a faint hope that the demon, clearly a powerful one, could be reasoned with. “No one makes demands of me.”

“Mumm-Ra? Bah, you are not the one we want. Out of our way or face the wrath of Luna.” Or maybe Luna could stick her tiny foot in her mouth. Why antagonize him? But then that was the Lunatak way; conquer first and ask questions later.

Just as Psions preferred saving their necks at the expense of others. “She doesn’t speak for all of us. If you could point us at Mumm-Rana we’ll be on our way,” Alluro intoned. He was obviously trying to use his hypnotic powers to sway the demon. He had once boasted that no one could resist his mental powers, and now Red Eye found himself sincerely hoping that the assessment was accurate. He didn’t relish finding out what else Mumm-Ra could do.

“Fools. You can not control me, you can not command me, for I am Mumm-Ra, supreme ruler of Third Earth, demon priest of all that is evil and foul. Nothing occurs unless I will it, and I will you not to leave.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than the Lunataks jumped in to action. A series of missiles erupted from a hidden compartment on Red Eye’s chest, accompanied by a ball of fire from Chilla and a blast from Tug Mug’s gravity carbine.

They struck simultaneously, dropping Mumm-Ra down from the sky. He didn’t stay down long though, which was disconcerting. Amok was already in motion, swinging a heavy fist at Mumm-Ra which Mumm-Ra caught. The undead creature skidded back a pace, maybe two, and retaliated with a fist of his own, rocking Amok back in to their midst.

What were they going to do? If Mumm-Ra could shrug off their attacks, what more could they bring to the fight. Chilla stepped forward, icy breath coating him in a thick layer, while Alluro’s psyche club crystal soared over his head. “You can not resist me, you will surrender to my will.” The voice wasn’t confident, which Red Eye believed was a good portion of his power.

The ice began to crack, and they were showered by the chunks of ice as Mumm-Ra freed himself. The demon priest raised off the ground again, scowling at them all. “You are indeed powerful, but you are nothing compared to me. For daring to strike at me I condemn you to a fate worse than death.” He shrugged off additional fire balls, slipped aside of Red Eye’s missiles, and began gesticulating in the air.

A knot of fear sat in the pit of Red Eye’s stomach as the very ground began to tremble. Where were their reinforcements? Why hadn’t the Excelsior sent a rescue ship down to retrieve them? It didn’t make sense; the queen was down here.

“What are you doing? Don’t you know who I am? I am Luna, queen of the Lunatak empire. Answer me, Mumm-Ra, answer me or else,” their queen shrieked. Were he feeling more jovial Red Eye might have speculated that perhaps it was this attitude that was slowing their rescue.

The rumbling noise grew and cracks began to form all around them. He saw molten lava starting to ooze from the cracks, ringing around them in a wide circle. Mumm-Ra was still gesturing, still avoiding their attacks. A new plan was needed unless they wanted to be cooked to a crisp. Now even Luna saw the threat and they began backing together.

“This is all your fault,” Alluro cursed. They were all closer than they would have liked under ordinary circumstances. “You’ve killed us all.”

Red Eye felt the lava touch him. It burned where it touched but, to his surprise, it had another effect. He couldn’t move his foot, and the lava began working its way up his leg. The others were experiencing similar things. Now Mumm-Ra spoke, his words clear even through the burning pain. “You are worthless to me now, but I feel the evil in your hearts. Some day you might prove useful to me. Until that day, prepare yourself for oblivion!”

The lava had worked its way to his waist, and Red Eye’s sidewinder was having no effect on the quickly solidifying lava. He hoped with all his heart, suddenly, that help would not come. The thought of Shade experiencing this, suffering as he was suffering, was an unpleasant feeling. His poor daughter, his poor family. What would they do? Twyla would never forgive him for abandoning her like this. He sent a prayer to Tesudas that he would see Shade again. Someday.

* * *

Present day

“And he would, but not for eighty years.” Shade nodded her head sadly. “The captain refused to go after her. He wouldn’t let anyone else go down either, even me. I remember watching that day, it felt so helpless. I didn’t grieve when we got back to the Royal Moon and Piscaar had him put to death. The others were a different story. Mad with grief Piscaar killed the senior staff of the ship. You know the rest, riots, assassinations, about a hundred different rulers. Bloodshed and more bloodshed as the moons turned on each other.”

Black Tiger nodded. It was a required part of the Darkling education system, a warning on the perils of absolute power and what the other moons were capable of.

“Closer to home my mother seemed almost relieved that Red Eye was presumed dead. She filed for widow’s benefits, and took control of all his possessions, property and wealth. Within a year she’d re-married, this time a kitchen hand. No kids, she blamed me for the marriage ending and didn’t want her new one ruined by children. They died in an accident much later. Seeing their mangled corpses didn’t mean as much to me as seeing that ship disappear. I can honestly say that I was never the same. I kept the squad going for a while, but central command could see that my heart wasn’t in to it. I was given a sum of money, and then gained my mother’s assets. Nothing helped, nothing seemed to fill that void in my life.”

“Until many years later when Davyn of House Iespyk poisoned the water supply,” Black Tiger said. Chilla’s grandson had struck where Darklings were vulnerable. Many died, but Shade hadn’t. An evil entity moved in, driving her mad until the two could adapt to one another. The entity would try and take over Third Earth later and be contained through magic. Davyn was caught trying to escape and was burned alive.

“And then word came that Red Eye lived. The Thundercats had arrived on Third Earth and Mumm-Ra couldn’t defeat them, so he enlisted the Lunataks to do his dirty work. It didn’t work, even the Lunataks couldn’t defeat them.”

* * *

1 year ago

“It’s all that Vultureman’s fault. Sound stones? Ha! What’s next, harness Tug Mug’s odour to defeat the Thundercats?” Luna was ranting again and Red Eye was doing his best to ignore it. She’d been droning on and on for the last twenty minutes, whacking anyone within easy reach of her riding crop. Tug Mug and Alluro had gotten lucky and were off duty, he and Chilla didn’t have the luxury.

The whole ordeal had been a disaster. They’d spied Vultureman stealing something called a sound stone from a sorceress, Third Earth seemed to be riddled with them, and created a sonic gun to defeat the Thundercats. The Lunataks had either volunteered to help him or been tricked in to it depending on who you asked. The Thundercats had rallied, built their own weapon, and sent the Lunataks scurrying back to Dark Side. It was the same old routine, and it was getting more than a little tiresome. Why Luna wasn’t devoting her efforts in finding that stupid belt, he didn’t know.

Significant damage had been done to Sky Tomb as well, and its main computer banks were a mess. That was Red Eye’s current headache, trying to salvage what he could of the tangled wires and blown circuitry. “Why would you agree to work with a Mutant, Chilla?” Luna demanded.

Red Eye knew that Chilla was the last person she should be antagonizing. Her temper was like a thread, ready to snap in an instant. “It was your idea to work with Vultureman. I suggested stealing his invention.”

He counted to three and then heard a strangled gasp followed by the sound of Luna’s riding crop whacking Chilla on the head. He didn’t need to turn around to know that Amok had the Icewalker by the throat and was happily holding her for his mistress. It was routine these days. At least their fighting meant that he was briefly out of the line of fire. It wouldn’t last long and soon Luna would tire of Chilla and seek out a new target to vent at.

* * *

It was late by the time he got back to his room. Sky Tomb would be operational again and they would come up with a new plan. Today, none of it seemed to matter. Of late he had been plagued by the feeling that they had been away from the Moons of Plundarr longer than they realized. Fifty years, perhaps, probably more. It was something Mumm-Ra had said the other day, suggesting that if they hadn’t been in magic lava, they would be dead by now. Lunataks lived a hundred and fifty years, rarely more.

He stepped in to his room and looked around at the place he’d called home for several months. It was possible this was all that remained of his life. His whole family and all his friends might be dead, his wife, his daughter, uncles and aunts, cousins... grandchildren? If they had been gone that long, had Shade moved on with her life? Had she settled down to raise a family of her own? And even if she had, they had no way of getting back to the moons.

A lamp by his desk needed a new bulb so he set about changing it, mostly to give himself something to do. He’d been working on a replacement set of eyes in case something happened to his current pair. He had no illusions that Luna wouldn’t dispose of him if he became blind. The Thundercat Lynx-O seemed to get by without his eyes, but Thundercats were a more gentle species. They might even help him if he asked.

It would be fitting as Lynx-O owed him, as far as he could tell. The impulses his braille board gave off matched those the Icewalker masks had given off, it couldn’t be a co-incidence. Two Lynxes, one technology. He gave up tinkering with the eyes after only a minute or two. He’d been messing with machinery all day, the thought of dealing with more was unappealing.

And that was part of the problem on the planet too. A massive fortress like Sky Tomb and only four hands capable of doing repairs. They were overworked and Luna didn’t care; if anything she kept pushing them harder. It didn’t help that once a week, seemingly, the place was being shot down out of the sky, or attacked by Thundercats who didn’t appreciate them using slave labour.

There was an idea. One thing seemed to bring him happiness still, even if the others didn’t quite appreciate it. He walked down to the kitchen, a big grin spreading on his face. Food in Dark Side was scarce, they often had to raid the villages of the Berbils or Bulkins just to survive, and so that had led them to improvising, and Red Eye knew all about improvising. On a dare one day he had taken a Berbil in to the kitchen and opened it up. Sure, it was mostly metal, but there were pieces that were edible, and whatever fuel source the Berbils used actually made certain parts very flavourful. The anti-freeze storage compartment, for example had a pleasant minty taste.

Once he’d decided what did and what didn’t taste good, he began experimenting with combinations until he had found one that he liked. There was a breed of bee that lived in Dark Side, they were enormous and potentially deadly to Lunataks, but they made a delicious honey that, when blended into a creamy mixture with melted cheese stolen from the Wollo village, made for an excellent sauce across Berbil ears and memory chips. He put the whole concoction into a roasting pan and cooked it for an hour to bring out the flavour. When it was done he would sprinkle just a dash of rust and lime juice on top.

None of the others could stand Roast Berbil Stew, but it was his best recipe yet no matter what they said. And the nice part was, since they wouldn’t eat it, there was always leftovers in the fridge. He poured himself a bowl and headed back to his room.

“Hey Red Eye, you want a beer to go with that?” Tug Mug asked. The Darkling hadn’t even noticed his friend coming the other way. He had a fridge in his room that was filled with booze. Luna could never figure out where the booze came from, and usually Red Eye didn’t ask. It was there, that was all that mattered. He shrugged and followed the Graviton in to his room. He didn’t feel like being alone right now, it brought back his gloomy thoughts.

The Graviton’s room was filthy, clothes and knick knacks covered every available surface. The bed reeked of sweat, booze, and other fluids he’d rather not dwell on. There was a shrub that had somehow taken root near Tug Mug’s never used shower. He called it Bernice, and they teased that it was the only woman he’d ever had in his room. That wasn’t true. Red Eye knew for a fact that a Bulkin woman had vanished one day from the slave pens and returned the next. She’d never said a word about it, but she didn’t have to. Red Eye’s eyes worked just fine to connect the dots.

“My spy cams caught Chilla in the shower. She hasn’t noticed this one yet. You want to see the footage?” He did, but wasn’t sure how much of that was an actual attraction to the woman, and how much was because she was the only woman in Sky Tomb of even remote interest to him. He’d been away from the Dark Moon long enough that it got harder to control his hormones. She was an attractive woman, physically fit and passionate in her beliefs, but when the options were her or Luna, she became an object of lust very quickly. Worse yet once, while fighting the Thundercats, he’d even caught himself taking a quick look at Cheetara, and that was even more disgusting than looking at a non-Darkling.

He was also still technically married to Twyla, no matter how far in the future they might be. He still had to consider himself a married man until he could prove otherwise. “What’s the matter? You’re not yourself tonight,” Tug Mug said, shaking him out of his reverie.

“Do you ever wonder what we’ve missed back home?” Red Eye said at length.

“Oh sure. Lots of new beers, the young women, the sports...” Tug Mug sighed. “All I know is the longer we’re away, the less likely I’ll have to pay all my bar tabs.

He didn’t get it, or maybe Gravitons thought differently. “What about family and friends?” he asked optimistically.

“Yeah, I guess I miss them too. Hey! That’s right, you have a wife and daughter back home. Look on the bright side, now you don’t need to divorce or pay child support,” Tug Mug punched his shoulder and laughed, spilling beer all over him. “Hey, speaking of funny things, I put a camera in Castle Plundarr, want to catch the highlights?”

“Another time, perhaps.” Red Eye stood and walked from the room and put his dishes away. The weight of the situation hung over him like an umbrella. Tug Mug didn’t understand the situation because Gravitons had different opinions on families and relationships. What he needed was someone else who had lost significantly. Alluro had been a bachelor at the time, and Luna was still in a foul mood, which left Chilla. She’d had a husband and a child back home, Red Eye had seen both on the Excelsior. Quickly he made his way down to her room.

* * *

Present day

“That was long before we started dating. Maybe that’s when it started.” Black Tiger chose not to say a word. The fact that Chilla was talking at all about her love life was unusual. Among the five Lunar races, the Icewalkers were the least likely to find lovers among the other sub-races. The skin temperatures were too different between Icewalkers and other Lunataks. Many found this difference unpleasant and a relationship without a physical component died quickly.

Conversely, Icewalkers usually liked having a ‘warm blooded’ partner to help regulate their bodies on those cold nights. That was why, or so she suspected, Icewalkers kept slaves. It was certainly part of the reason that having multiple partners was encouraged. Chilla wasn’t like that, though. In her life she’d only had the one man, and speculation had it that it was why she and Red Eye’s relationship had been brief. Black Tiger really hoped that Chilla wouldn’t start talking about their sex life.

* * *

1 year ago

She added the ‘sound stone’ incident to a log book. Back when she’d fought in the gladitorial arenas Chilla had kept detailed records of battles won and lost. She’d tried to do the same here on Third Earth, though the losses were far outnumbering the victories of late. She was tired and frustrated. A heated shouting match against Luna was like shouting at a brick wall, except that brick wall had a riding crop.

And whoever was knocking on her door wasn’t improving matters. She closed the book and opened the door. It was Red Eye, probably the most tolerable person in Sky Tomb. Alluro could be charming, they’d even tried having a relationship once, but there was always a self-centred tone to his end of the conversation. Luna was just screechy and Tug Mug was vile. With such competition it was easy for Red Eye to crawl to the top of the pile. “Do you have a minute?” he asked.

Yes she did, but she didn’t really want to give it to him. “What do you want?” she asked. She knew what the others said, Tug Mug mostly, that she had perpetual PMS, but she didn’t care. They didn’t leave her alone even with that ‘reputation’.

“How do you cope, without knowing what has happened to Ren?” he asked. It was perilously close to something Alluro had said last week, except Alluro had offered to fill the void in her life and between her legs that Ren had once occupied. She didn’t think Red Eye was going in the same direction, and could ice him if it turned out he was. Seeing that this was something a little more complicated than could be dealt with standing in her door way, and feeling a shred of pity for the Darkling, she stepped aside.

Her room was kept tidy and bare. A bed, a desk, and a few trinkets of battle. There was a bow hanging on the wall, the warrior woman who’d carried it was long since worm food, and a lock of Lion-O’s hair with a date scribbled under it. She took the desk chair to avoid giving Red Eye any ideas, and he took the bed. “I have a feeling that, even if we got back to the moons today, we’d find that time has gone by. Twyla, Shade, everyone I knew may be long dead.”

That she understood. She’d wondered the same thing, in truth. When Mumm-Ra had freed them she’d seen a glimpse of the forest nearby. The trees had felt bigger, closer, but she’d passed it off as imagination. But now and then she would think about that and ask herself how Ren was doing, how her son was. If it was long enough... “I try not to think about it. Besides, I trust Ren to raise our son properly.”

“But what if they’ve moved on?” Chilla scowled. She didn’t need to be a telepath to know that he was hurting, she even sympathized. She and Ren were closer than most Icewalkers got, their relationship was so perfect that adding a third of either gender would have thrown off that perfect alignment. They counted on one another, and losing Ren for however long it had been did hurt. But Icewalkers were made as harsh as the climate on their frozen moon, death was a constant companion, closer than a shadow on most days. How many friends had she lost? Family members?

“Then you move on as well,” she said. “It’s easy to wallow in grief, but there comes a point where you have to deal with it. If Ren’s dead, I trust that he lived his life to the fullest and died with honour. I regret not seeing Nitro grow up, but if he has than so be it. I can’t change that. You want the best for your loved ones, so imagine the best for them, because I don’t have the faith that we’re ever going to see the moons again, not with Luna leading.”

It looked like she’d slapped him across the face, and she nearly sighed in exasperation. Had he never had a girlfriend dump him or lost a friend? The Dark Moon was no safer a place than the Ice. But it was two different cultures, and that was half the problem. “I’m not saying to forget them, I say a prayer to Lunis every night that they’re well, but I honour their memory. I know they would want the best for me, and that’s how I try to live.”

He didn’t fully understand, she could see it in the set of his shoulders. She was no good at these things, she didn’t really do ‘comfort.’ She tried to remember the things she’d said when Ren would come home frustrated, but he’d been easy to deal with. Him, she could slap across the face and it would knock sense in to him. “I love them,” he whispered.

“And I love Ren. But I can’t change what’s happened, and dwelling on it is only going to make it worse. Channel that grief in to anger, and use it the next time we fight the Thundercats.” Chilla grinned, that was one thing she was good at.

Red Eye looked up. “You’re right. I can’t change the situation. Thank you.” He stood and started to walk to the door, but stopped. “By the way, speaking of channelling anger, Tug Mug installed a new camera in your shower.”

* * *

Present day

“You don’t believe me?” Tug Mug said, trying his best to look hurt. “Would I lie to you?”

It was a question that carried an automatic answer, so she gave it. “Yes, you would,” Black Tiger replied. “There’s no way you snapped the Sword of Omens in half with your bare hands.”

“I did! I totally did. You can ask Slythe, he was there... no, wait, he’d left by then. Ask Lion-O, you know *he* would never lie to you.”

He sounded sincere, and he was right. Lion-O was a Thundercat, and Thundercats were sworn to uphold truth. She was pretty sure they could lie, but they would feel real bad about it. For the time being she would let it pass. “Whatever, that still has nothing to do with Red Eye. This is a book about him, not you. Maybe my next one will be.”

“A story about Red Eye, then. How about the time he tried to eat the Sword of Omens?” Eating a sword? She was sceptical, how did one eat a sword? She shrugged and raised her pen. “Okay then. Luna had sent us to the warrior maiden village to fetch some slaves, but of course Lion-O had to spoil the fun...”

* * *

11 months ago

Red Eye ran as fast as he could, trying to keep up with Tug Mug. The fact that he was relegated to carrying their warrior maiden prisoner, bound and gagged but still able to kick and squirm, didn’t help. Lion-O was on their tail and gaining ground quickly. They needed to get to the Lunattacker nearby if they had any hope of getting away.

Why had they parked so far away, he asked himself, and why hadn’t they knocked the woman unconscious first? It was a little late for that now. He saw the Lunattacker ahead, but no sign of Tug Mug. Perhaps the Graviton had decided to bounce the rest of the way to Dark Side, or had gotten lost somehow. His loss, either way, Red Eye had no intention of waiting for him.

“Ho!” came Lion-O’s familiar call, the only warning one ever got that there was a bolt of energy with your name on it. Lion-O would aim carefully, given that there was a squealing hostage over his shoulder, but the sword seemed to be sentient or something, knowing whom its master was aiming at. Even as the beam struck him between the shoulders he cursed the wretched weapon. It was more powerful than all the Lunataks together and could not be used by so-called evil people. They would be so much better off without it.

Red Eye’s knees buckled and the woman went tumbling to the side. He turned, drawing out his sidewinder, though his back still stung. “Let the warrior maiden free, Red Eye,” Lion-O commanded, using his most authoritative voice. It was the same tone he himself used to use on prisoners they’d found on the Dark Moon. Poor souls who needed to realize that they had lost, and he found himself disliking being on the other end of that voice.

“Never,” he replied. If he could get off a lucky shot, maybe he could injure Lion-O. And maybe Lion-O would suddenly decide to run himself through with that stupid sword.

“I warned you, Lunatak.” He snarled. Red Eye hated being referred to by species, there was something demeaning about it, especially since Lion-O had used his name earlier on. Then his eyes saw something else. A large mass of warmth creeping behind Lion-O. So, Tug Mug hadn’t ditched him then. Perhaps he owed the Graviton an apology.

He fired the sidewinder, the ball of fire spinning out only to be sliced in two by that sword. The aforementioned sword then raised, the tip glowing as energy built up again. What was taking Tug Mug so long? Lion-O was distracted, he had an opening. Why wasn’t he getting involved? Red Eye reached over and grabbed the warrior maiden, pulling her in front of him as a shield. Lion-O gasped. “Cowardly wretch, fight like a man.”

It wasn’t his first choice either, but survival was survival. The woman doubtless knew this lesson from living on such a hostile world, a pity that Lion-O didn’t. He was a noble, though, born with a silver spoon in his mouth and wanting for nothing. His idea of danger was probably wearing shoes that didn’t match. But Lion-O’s sword wavered, he wouldn’t dare take the shot. It was against his code of conduct to put another at risk, and that was when Tug Mug attacked, dropping down from the sky and smashing his metal gauntlet in to Lion-O’s head, causing him to fall like a sack of hammers. “About time,” he said, tossing the girl aside and walking over to the fallen Lord of the Thundercats.

“I was hoping you’d get him in a better position. Ah well, Luna will be happy to have a second prisoner. With those muscles he should be able to shovel a lot of thundrillium,” Tug Mug replied, starting to bind Lion-O’s wrists, while Red Eye stooped to collect the fallen weapon.

Luna would no doubt want the sword for herself, a dangerous trophy to keep around, in Red Eye’s opinion. It, much like Lion-O himself, needed to be destroyed. If they slit Lion-O’s throat now they wouldn’t need to worry about what would happen when the other Thundercats came looking, or watch as Sky Tomb was destroyed in yet another escape attempt. But how? Tug Mug had snapped it in half once and they’d simply repaired it.

* * *

Present day

“Tug Mug!” Black Tiger said. She was slightly irritated that he’d worked a tale of his own exploits in to his Red Eye story. She had presumed that the matter of whether or not he had broken the sword with his bare hands had been dropped. Apparently not.

“What? I’m just adding realism...”

* * *

11 months ago

Looking down at the prone body of Lion-O, Red Eye knew what Chilla would suggest as a means of disposing of him. He was well aware that most Icewalker prisoners could count on themselves being served as a meal the moment their usefulness expired. It was a gruesome fate, but it was a way of life for them.

Which made him wonder. Could the same principle be used on the Sword of Omens? Surely if his stomach could tolerate, even enjoy, Berbil ‘flesh’ then perhaps... He gave the blade an experimental lick. It wasn’t bad, actually. The faint flavour of cooked meat with a tingling sensation that went all the way down to the tips of his toes. Already he could imagine what condiments would go well on it and what should be served with it. A vegetable, for sure, perhaps some carrots and mustard.

“Ew! What are you doing? Don’t you know where that’s been?” Tug Mug interrupted his thoughts. Red Eye had forgotten where he was momentarily, caught up in the moment. “Besides, Luna will want it.”

Tug Mug was struggling to get Lion-O in to the Lunattacker, so he went to help, hefting the unconscious feline on top of their frightened warrior maiden. “I’ll handle Luna. She’ll be grateful to have the sword out of commission, and be distracted by torturing Lion-O.”

“I don’t know about you sometimes, Red. We have a beautiful woman and a sword, and you’d rather play with the sword. You think Luna will let me have the woman?” Tug Mug asked, patting the Darkling on the shoulder as the latter started up the Lunattacker.

“You never know.”

* * *

Luna was indeed thrilled to get Lion-O, so much so that she forgot about the Sword of Omens until well after the fact. By that time Red Eye had vanished down to the kitchen. The sword, he’d decided, would have to be broken in to more manageable pieces. But that would allow him to experiment a little more. Tomato paste and chocolate, he decided, would be the first. But first he had to break the sword. Carefully he placed it in a pot of boiling water to soften the alloys. While he waited, he made a salad.

* * *

Collapsing in an ungainly heap on the floor, Lion-O felt tired and sore. His head hurt, and his chest felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. But then Luna and Amok had been interrogating him for an hour at least. There was only the one other prisoner in the dungeons at present, the warrior maiden he’d come in with. She seemed unharmed physically, but frightened and out of her element. “I’m going to get you out of here. I swear it on my honour as Lord of the Thundercats,” he told her, looking around. “I just don’t know how. If only I had the Sword of Omens, it could blast down the door. Sword of Omens, come to my hand!”

A long pause. By now he was sure the sword would be reunited with its master. Something must be hindering its progress. “That brute with the red eyes said he was going to eat your sword,” the maiden, named Valana, said in a low voice.

Was that even possible? So little was known about the Lunataks. It was theoretically plausible that they would be able to consume things that the ordinary Thunderian couldn’t. He had to find out, and he wouldn’t be able to do that from within Sky Tomb’s prison cells.

He examined the door. There was a control panel just to the right of the door that, he suspected, operated the locking mechanism. His arm was too short to reach through the window and reach but the warrior woman was still armed with her bow and arrows. With his chest protesting the movement he walked over to Valana. “I need to borrow this for a minute, selecting a shaft from her quiver.” Just as he’d hoped. If he held it by the fletching he could reach the buttons, and a moment later the door opened.

Now they needed to escape. But which way? Lion-O tried frantically to remember which direction Luna had him carried from. “Right. We should go to the right,” he finally said. The hall seemed to slope upwards in that direction, and he thought he recognized the burnt out light fixture at the far end. That way would lead closer to the control room, but he had been inside Sky Tomb just often enough to have a general idea of the layout. What he didn’t know was where the kitchen and/or Red Eye would be.

And did he dare try and find either while dragging Valana along behind him? As it turned out he didn’t need to worry, as Alluro was in the middle of walking down the hall. He yelped and turned to run, forcing Lion-O and Valana to chase after him before he could raise the alarm. Lion-O noted that the hypnotist wasn’t carrying his psyche club, which meant half of his power was gone.

The Lunatak led them up a flight up stairs and stumbled through the door in to what turned out to be the kitchen. “Red Eye! Lion-O has escaped!” Alluro said.

“So I see. Surrender Lion-O.”

Lion-O was accustomed to such bluster, it was one of the few things the Lunataks were good at. Such evil beings they were, if only they would turn their motives to purity and goodness the denizens of Third Earth could live happily in peace. But no, there were those who always preferred to let greed take control of their actions, and the greed would fester and corrupt. It was sad, but it was why the Thundercats had been formed by his ancestors. It was also why the Sword of Omens served them faithfully.

Speaking of which, if the sword were with Red Eye in the kitchen, then where was it? A pot on the stove, full of a bubbling brown mixture caught his attention. Was the sword in there? He tried to decide whether he could retrieve the weapon before Red Eye could use his sidewinder. “That’s right, Lion-O. Sword of Omens in chocolate sauce, it should be delicious,” the Darkling chuckled, “perhaps I’ll save you a slice.”

“By Jaga, no.” Lion-O decided that Red Eye was too busy laughing at his joke to stop him and knew he had to act fast. There was an easy solution to his immediate problem, he ran forward, grabbed the pot, and hurled the contents at the two startled Lunataks. With both Alluro and Red Eye contained by the scalding power of the chocolate, Lion-O carefully picked up the Sword of Omens and sheathed it. He would worry later about cleaning it. For now he and Valana had to get out of Sky Tomb.

* * *

Present day

“That wasn’t a story of Red Eye’s bravery,” Black Tiger said, scratching her head. She sat in Cat’s Lair with both her father and Lion-O.

“I know. That’s why I was surprised you asked about it. He looks rather foolish, though, maybe that’s why Tug Mug told you it. Come to think of it, he looked rather good in it, didn’t he?” Lion-O said in response. “The story you really want to hear about is a recent one. The Lunataks had formed a city in Dark Side, and we decided that a joint effort between our peoples would be beneficial...”

* * *

Last month

“Have a little faith in me, I know what I’m doing,” Tycho said as calmly as he could. Red Eye didn’t believe a word of it. Governor Tycho, technically the next in line to the throne until Luna provided a proper heir, had been assigned to manage the city of New Lunis.

That had been a stroke of genius, he had to concede. One of Tycho’s lackeys had gone through proper legal channels to argue that the Lunataks had been on the land in Dark Side for eighty years and thus had some claim to it. Never mind that their being there had been against their will, nor that they had been encased in lava. The claim had been validated by the Interplanetary Control Force since none of the other races of Third Earth had a prior claim to it, and the Thundercats had been forced to accept that the Lunataks could build a city there if they pleased.

But Tycho was too friendly to be a Lunatak, in Red Eye’s opinion. When the Darkling looked at the planet, he saw minimal threats if the Lunataks wanted to put out a concerted effort at conquest. Two powerful wizards, a handful of Thundercats, and many primitive cultures. At first he’d thought that an alliance with the Thundercats was a ruse to get help defeating Mumm-Ra, but Tycho legitimately thought that peace between the two species was the way to go, and he planned to talk to Luna about that very matter the next chance he had.

In theory Tycho had a council of eight, two from each of the moons with himself representing the Royal. Red Eye and the other Darkling in the room, Stalker, were the Dark Moon council members. “Look. The Lunataks haven’t really done very well ‘making friends’ on this planet. By helping the Thundercats deliver relief supplies we’ll make ourselves look better. I’m not asking either of you to like it, but I do expect you to be on your best behaviour. You’re representing me on this mission.”

And that was the crux of it. They didn’t have to like it, but they had to obey Tycho’s word. The fact that he didn’t often throw his power around didn’t matter. “As you wish, sir,” Stalker said.

The two, along with Shade, would take a small shuttle to a Bulkin village that had been hit by heavy flooding. The Thundercats were sending the Thunderstrike, had already left in fact, so they would need to hurry if they were going to catch up. A team was already at the space port, loading their shuttle with food and medical supplies. They could barely afford to spare the latter, an argument that Stalker had tried to make, but Tycho had dismissed the concerns. They would be paid back in kindness, he was sure, when the shoe was on the other foot.

“If we ever need help from Bulkins I’m resigning,” Red Eye mumbled. It wasn’t wholly true. They’d used the Bulkins on a number of occasions, but that was as slave labour to fuel their furnaces and perform menial tasks. He couldn’t imagine that this relief effort would go very far in changing their image.

“It won’t be so bad. We might learn something about the Thundercats in the process,” Stalker shrugged. His official capacity was commanding the military forces on Third Earth, but with no active conflicts it amounted to patrols and checking defences. He had a sharp mind that Red Eye appreciated, always looking for that other angle. He reminded him of Ponacht that way, only nowhere near as gruff.

They arrived at the hangar and found Shade supervising the loading operation. She’d become very clingy towards him, a product of eighty years apart he supposed. It also had wildly changed their relationship. Outside his lava prison time had continued to move. While he hadn’t aged at all, his daughter had become a very old woman. It was unnatural for a daughter to be older than her father. But then, there wasn’t much natural about her situation.

Trapped within that body was an evil entity they’d dubbed Nightshade. Were she to die it might be freed, and it was a moment they dreaded. Nightshade had nearly destroyed Mumm-Ra himself. What damage might he wreak the next time? And so the Thundercats had provided them with water from a fountain of youth to revitalize her and delay the inevitable.

She turned at their approach. “They’re almost done. It’s going to be tight in there, but we’ll all fit.”

“Good. I’ll go get the ship warmed up,” Stalker said, walking over to the pilot compartment. There was room for a co-pilot, which Shade would take despite her objections, leaving Red Eye to travel in the back with the supplies.

As the last box was placed inside, Red Eye took his seat, and Shade closed the rear hatch. In moments he felt the ship lift off the ground and soar across the planet. He’d seen the countryside enough to know that they were leaving the Fire Rock Mountains far behind, soaring past the hostile region of Dark Side and in to the more fertile lands beyond. Very little in the way of grains grew in that densely packed and rocky soil, making their gifts of food even more precious.

Despite Stalker’s optimism, Red Eye didn’t see it the same way. The Thundercats had always been enemies. Perhaps he was too old fashioned, perhaps he’d just been on the wrong side of a Sword of Omens blast, but he couldn’t see them any other way.

It would probably end up being Tygra in the Thunderstrike too. Of all the Thundercats he and the Tiger had probably clashed the most often, a result of being the only one who could penetrate Tygra’s invisibility. A very real hatred had formed from the constant fighting, especially since Red Eye knew that he should be able to handle the feline. Tygra was crafty and quick, but Red Eye was intelligent in his own right, he possessed superior fire power, and easily out muscled him.

They were landing before he knew it, and the back door opened to reveal a desperate situation. The village had been located on the waterfront, a small fishing village he suspected, when a monstrous wave had struck. Homes had been destroyed and a few people had been swept away. A single boat had avoided being ripped to pieces, and it was currently in the middle of the water, trying to collect victims.

The Thunderstrike was nearby and Red Eye could see, as he’d feared, Tygra among the three person crew. He and Lion-O were working on excavating a demolished house, while Pumyra tended to the wounded. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, scooping up a box of medicines and carting it over to the healer.

* * *

“They came after all,” Tygra noted, struggling with a heavy beam. The homes of the Bulkins were simply made, but that didn’t make their work feel any easier. He hadn’t been sure whether or not the offer to help had been genuine. Naturally he and Lion-O had hoped for the best, relations between the two races did seem to be improving, but one never knew.

“They did. Darklings too, which should be a big help.” Lion-O came over and the two pried the wood loose. They were searching for people who might have been caught unawares in their homes. So far they’d found one, but they hadn’t been working at it long.

The flood had hit a few hours ago, and even he was impressed with how quickly they’d managed to mobilize help. If there wasn’t so much going on at Cat’s Lair and the Tower of Omens, more Thundercats would have come. Calling the Lunataks had been a desperate move, but one that seemed to have worked. With that in mind he jogged over to where Red Eye and Pumyra were talking, carrying the injured Bulkin in his arms.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, easing the man to the ground. Pumyra had gathered all the blankets she could from their infirmary and they wrapped one around the shivering Bulkin. “We need your eyes to help scan the fallen buildings to...” he faltered. A strange look crossed Red Eye’s face.

“We’re not under your command,” Red Eye said evenly.

Lion-O checked his response. It was a tense situation and hostile words wouldn’t help matters. He supposed that he had sounded a little demanding, and would have to make a mental note that he couldn’t speak to the Lunataks as he would to Tygra or Pumyra, even if it felt silly. This was a crisis situation and egos needed to be checked at the door. “Forgive me. Would you please help us search for survivors?” he asked.

“I suppose I can do that. Shade, you and Stalker continue unloading the shuttle, I’ll be working with Lion-O and Tygra apparently,” Red Eye said, and followed the Lord of the Thundercats to the worst of the damaged buildings. He put his hand to his head and began fiddling with his mechanical eyes. “Over there. Weak life signs, probably a child.”

* * *

A few hours later they paused for lunch. With Red Eye taking the lead they determined that they had rescued as many people as they could, along with a handful of corpses. There were still two people unaccounted for, and it was hoped they were out of the village and not still buried beneath one of the huts. Even a dead body should have some residual heat, he figured, so he was reasonably optimistic that they wouldn’t find anyone else in the rubble.

The work hadn’t gone too badly, he grudgingly conceded. The Thundercats were hard workers, almost as hard as Lunataks, and refrained from making too many sanctimonious remarks. Still, when lunch was called, Red Eye, Stalker, and Shade stuck together near their shuttle. “So, you think Tycho’s plan is working?” Shade asked, taking a large bite out of a piece of purple candy fruit.

“If it is, it’s going to be a long road. The Bulkins made it clear that they would rather be injured or sick than be treated by me,” Stalker said. He had been helping Pumyra with the wounded, since he had some first aid knowledge from his military training. It wasn’t much, and most of it was more suited to a combat field with little other options, but it was better than nothing.

“Yeah, well, the Thundercats aren’t much better. Lion-O probably thinks I’m letting people die under their houses right now, the way he kept asking if there were any others,” Red Eye snorted. As if it were worth his bother to have a personal vendetta against a Bulkin.

“Let’s face it, Lunataks weren’t cut out to be the martyrs of the universe,” Shade said. Halfheartedly they toasted one another with canteens of water.

* * *

Shortly after lunch they resumed work, this time trying to repair homes. This was harder work in many ways, and Red Eye was starting to feel more than a little tired. Stalker had moved from the medical duties, in order to make the injured more comfortable, and the two Darkling males were in the process of installing a centre post for one of the new buildings when a cry went up from the Bulkins. “Berserkers!”

“Maybe they’re here to help with the relief efforts,” Red Eye said. Although the arrival of enemies pleased him, there would be no need to be nice to the pirates, and it had been a long time since he’d been able to be violent.

“Help themselves to the plunder, more likely,” Stalker replied, though he too sported a bit of a grin. “I bet the Berserkers think it’s just Bulkins here. Maybe the Thundercats too if they can see the Thunderstrike. We should stay out of sight until they come to shore.”

He nodded. There were only four Berserkers that posed any kind of threat. The rest of the crew was comprised of whatever dregs of the earth they’d picked up. Their leader, Hammerhand, would be the most difficult to deal with. “Or maybe not. Incoming!” Red Eye jumped to the side as a fireball landed in their midst. He’d forgotten that the Berserker ship could shoot fireballs. It was difficult to aim, but the pirates clearly felt that they were better off smashing the Thundercats from a distance.

A quick look revealed that the Thundercats had gathered on the beach front. Lion-O was holding up his sword now, the artifact generating a shield that he was using to absorb and block any attacks that were aimed within easy running distance, but it was a bit of a stalemate. Tygra and Pumyra had distance weapons, but nothing that would reach from the beach to the pirate ship, and it would be suicide to attempt to swim.

The Thundercats couldn’t reach the ship with their weapons, Red Eye thought, but he probably could. The missiles he fired could probably reach that far if he wanted to. Tycho would probably insist that he should. It galled him to be of service to the Thundercats, but they were likely to be just as bothered that they’d needed a Lunatak’s help. That made helping a little more palatable.

The Berserkers were starting to catch on that Lion-O had a limited range to work from and launched a second fireball over his head, landing perilously close to where the wounded were laying. Red Eye ran forward, flanked by Shade and Stalker, and took aim. Three missiles, aimed low, soared over the water punching holes through the boat. They were low enough that the ship would start taking on water as it pitched up and down, the waves lapping against its hull. This attack caught the Berserkers attention and several dashed for the long boats, intent on fighting the battle on foot rather than be caught onboard, while others tried to repair the damage.

* * *

The Bulkins would be non-factors in the fight, they wouldn’t even make for useful shields, which meant that the Lunataks and Thunderians would have to contend with the entire horde of pirates on their own. Stalker marked Hammerhand as Lion-O’s problem, none of the rest of them would be able to match the power of his metallic arm. The rest of them would be a separate matter.

A man with a giant wheel embedded in his chest was the first out of the long boats, running through the surf. It must be the one he’d read about in one of their briefings, named Ram Bam, his logical move would be to drop to the ground once he was clear of the water, so the best place to engage him was before he got to that point. Stalker rushed forward, swinging his pacifier in front of him.

Ram Bam was taken by surprise, but showed quickly that there was more to him than just a wheel in his chest. There was muscle there too and speed as he stepped around Stalker’s first swing and lashed out with his fist, catching him in the shoulder.

* * *

Not too far, Red Eye found that the brute named Cruncher was able to swat away his missiles. It was unusual, but the projectiles weren’t particularly powerful. They were, by necessity, small and compact. He’d considered seeing about upgrading the launching system to give them more thrust, but hadn’t gotten around to it.

The Berserker was narrowing the distance between the two of them, so Red Eye abandoned that mode of attack, switching to first the sidewinder, whose magical flames couldn’t seem to slow him down, and then to the pacifier. This was hardly his first choice. Cruncher was massive and very strong, able to pulverise rocks with those arms. The prospect of what he could do to bone was not something he looked forward to.

As he tried to send an electrical blast through his opponent, Red Eye hoped that the rest of his friends were doing well, Shade especially. He didn’t have time to take a look around the battle ground, narrowly avoiding being grabbed by those hands. Red Eye brought the pacifier down in to Cruncher’s lower back, shocking him and cause him to roar in pain. It wasn’t enough though, and he felt a gauntleted hand backhand him into the water where even more pirates were pouring out of the longboats. He would need to increase the power setting on the pacifier if he hoped to use it on Cruncher again, it would be lethal against the regular pirates, but they were only Berserkers, and survival was the most important thing.

* * *

Stalker saw Tygra plowing through a pair of pirates in his peripheral vision even as he tangled with Ram Bam. They’d locked together in a test of strength briefly, but when it looked like Stalker would win that contest he felt a sudden burning sensation across his chest as that infernal wheel spun rapidly. He pushed away and broke a pirate’s nose when he got too close. “What the hell are you?” he asked.

“I’m Ram Bam, and I’m a Berserker, Berserker” the idiot replied. Even the voice was annoying, with a bit of a stutter at the end of it. Stalker hoped that he wouldn’t get beaten by such a man.

* * *

Working back to back with a Thundercat was a little unexpected, but Shade was pleasantly surprised to find that she and Pumyra were making a pretty good team. Surrounded by a group of pirates who all seemed to blur in to one, she was reasonably certain that it was their gender that was causing the Berserkers to underestimate them. It also left her no doubt what would happen if the Berserkers won. Since she didn’t really feel like being nothing more than a pair of spread legs, she felt a little more motivated.

It had long become impossible to use distance weapons. The pirates were too close, and a short ‘gentleman’ whom Pumyra called Top Spinner was able to reflect projectiles back at them by somehow twirling around at the waist. A robotic lower half, perhaps? Whatever the case, he was probably the most dangerous of the group of eight around them.

She kicked a pirate in the stomach when he tried to close in, and heard another gasp as Pumyra did something to him. “Come on, girlies, surrender. Surrender,” Top Spinner said, pushing past his brethren.

“Maybe not,” Shade replied, scooping up a handful of sand and tossing it at his face. He spun, as she’d hoped, and his shield clipped one of his friends who had been standing just a little too close.

* * *

The Thundercats would probably give him hell, he thought as another Berserker dropped face down in to the water. Red Eye didn’t care, it felt good to be using his combat skills in an actual fight rather than just in training scenarios. This was life and death, and he preferred former to the latter.

“Hold still, hold still!” Cruncher snarled. This was obviously not going as easily as they’d thought. A defenceless village, trying to repair the damage of a flood, it should have been easy pickings, he supposed.

Red Eye did hold still long enough to let Cruncher get closer, though the pirate had long figured out that the pacifier was a deadly weapon, and definitely something to be avoided. When Red Eye tried swinging again, Cruncher reached out and grabbed the pacifier instead of trying to move out of the way. Caught off-guard as the weapon was jerked out of his hands, he stumbled within reach of the pirate’s other hand.

Bones felt like they would snap in that viselike grip. “Now then, matey, let’s see what happens when I use this on you!”

* * *

Things were going a little better for Stalker. Ram Bam wasn’t the brightest of individuals, a characteristic he was sure he could assign to all of the Berserkers, based on what little he could see. He was most effective when he could use his wheel to pick up speed and possibly gore his opponents on his helm, in a hand to hand fight he was much less useful. Certainly he was nowhere near the skill that Stalker was.

A heavy kick to Ram Bam’s thigh brought his arms down a fraction, presenting Stalker with an opening to strike his throat with the pacifier. A weak electrical charge raced through the pirate, knocking him to the ground. Stalker took the moment to roll him on to his back, ensuring that the ringleaders of the operation would be caught alive. There was something to be said for showing the effects of justice, though he doubted Bulkin ‘justice’ would be anything in comparison to the punishment Ram Bam and the others would get before Queen Luna or even governor Tycho.

With the immediate threat taken care of, Stalker looked around. There were still a few nondescript pirates running around, making life difficult for his compatriots, but it was mostly the ringleaders. Lion-O and Hammerhand seemed to be an even match, sword clashing against arm, that was a fight to leave alone. If it looked like Lion-O would be seriously injured or killed, then he would intervene.

Shade and Pumyra were slowly gaining the upper hand on Top Spinner. As they picked off the underlings, they would be able to concentrate their forces on the stubby pirate. Red Eye was in trouble, though, so that was the direction he moved.

He saw a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye, a whip coiled around the chest of a pirate who had been running to intercept him. Tygra. He hadn’t seen Tygra on the battlefield until now. Perhaps he’d been invisible, taking on threats as he was able. It was certainly within his abilities.

* * *

Pain made it hard to concentrate, as did Cruncher’s new tactic of holding his head beneath the water briefly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you can still row our boat,” Cruncher chuckled, pulling him momentarily from the surf.

It wasn’t reassuring. A life as a slave was no fate for a warrior. Luckily he knew help was coming. Though there was water blurring his sight, he saw Stalker coming. The military commander jumped through the air, landing neatly on Cruncher’s back, forcing him to drop Red Eye completely to deal with this new threat.

Years of training and frustration came back. No matter how wounded one was, one had to get one’s bearings quickly or be killed. Stalker was probably the better fighter, but even one shot from Cruncher could be devastating as he well knew. Red Eye grabbed his pacifier from where the pirate had dropped it and thrust it as hard as he could at him. Cruncher dropped like a rock, shimmering red energy crackling around him.

* * *

The battle was over. Hammerhand and his surviving pirates beat a hasty retreat when it became obvious that they wouldn’t be winning today. Several stopped to drag fallen friends in to the longboats and they fled back to whatever cove they’d come from.

Shade walked over to where her father was catching his breath and put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?” she asked. While fighting Top Spinner she had caught a glimpse of Red Eye’s predicament. He nodded and they joined the others in rounding up the prisoners. The Thundercats would help the Bulkins carry out trials, though she suspected the sentences would be laughable, amounting to nothing more than a slap on the wrist.

Five of the thirty or so pirates were dead, four by Red Eye’s hand, and their corpses were buried properly further down the beach. All in all it wasn’t a bad outing. None of them were seriously injured and they’d scored a victory. Perhaps they’d even gained a measure of respect in the eyes of both the Thundercats and the Bulkins. That would make Tycho happy, anyway.

With this new work taken care of, the half dozen prisoners were loaded in to a makeshift detention block. Shade knew that if she were to wander by the following day that the Berserkers would have escaped, which seemed to be part of the argument Stalker and Lion-O were having. She couldn’t make out what was being said but could guess well enough. Justice meant two different things to both men.

Putting it out of her mind, knowing that Stalker would likely gripe about it the entire trip back to New Lunis, she set about packing up what little was coming back with them in the shuttle.

* * *

“And then he had the nerve to suggest that I was a barbarian, just as bad they were,” Stalker snarled. Shade flew, as Stalker was too riled to do so safely, and Red Eye listened from the back.

“But he asked for your opinion. Why ask if you’re going to complain about the answer?” Shade asked. The Thundercats were planning on lingering a little longer at the Bulkin village, but the Lunataks wanted to get back. Tycho would be expecting a report, and with tensions running high again it would be better to get back than stay for the celebration banquet the Bulkins were preparing. A feast with the food they’d brought, Red Eye added mentally. It seemed backwards somehow.

“Exactly. They just don’t understand. We’ve got two of their ringleaders. You execute them both and set an example that piracy won’t be tolerated. It’s taught in the schools, basic education. Black Tiger knew that when she was six, there are consequences for your actions. Argh. I should have left Ram Bam to drown, at least that would be one more out of the way,” Stalker continued to grouse.

“Survival of the fittest,” Red Eye nodded. He supposed it irritated Stalker more because he’d been in the position of giving out penalties on the Dark Moon so he knew what worked and what didn’t. All Red Eye ever had to do was apprehend fugitives, he left the bulk of the rest to judges and lawyers.

“All I know is that if the Berserkers ever come to Dark Side they won’t be getting locked in a flimsy detention cell so that they can escape a week later. Lion-O figures they’ll get community service, be forced to rebuild the village, and then they’ll get to go free. Unbelievable.” Stalker’s fist hit the dashboard, making a small dent.

Unbelievable was the right word for it. Red Eye was surprised that the Thundercats could be so blind, or maybe they just felt that strongly about respecting the laws of others. It was technically Bulkin jurisdiction, but that wouldn’t have mattered to the Lunataks if Lion-O, Tygra and Pumyra hadn’t been there.

That was lost respect for the Thundercats. In fact, it made him wonder just how much the Lunataks could get away with then, if that was going to be the extent of the law. “I hear they exiled a guy once,” Shade said. “Some rogue Thundercat, so this doesn’t surprise me.”

* * *

Present day

“Now that’s hardly fair. The Bulkins have as much right to prosecute the Berserkers as anyone. And Thunderian justice does allow for some very stiff penalties,” Lion-O said.

“And what happened that night in the Bulkin village?” Stalker prompted, tapping his foot idly against the floor. Black Tiger could guess from the sheepish expression on the Lord’s face.

“They broke out about an hour after we left. Two Bulkins were injured and their last boat was stolen. How about we tell a story that doesn’t embarrass the Thundercats?” Black Tiger chose not to point out that it had been Lion-O’s idea to tell that particular story. It had, in fact, shown a strong side to Red Eye’s character.

“You know what your book is missing?” Stalker asked. “You. This is your work, why don’t you tell about your first meeting with Red Eye?”

Because it had been a little embarrassing was the real reason, from both of their perspectives. Still, it was a good idea. A little self insertion didn’t hurt, and it would help to illustrate how Red Eye was viewed by the modern Darkling. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

* * *

Last month

She was being ridiculous and she knew it. She’d barely been on Third Earth for more than a day and her father, a great hero in his own right, had arranged a meeting with the legendary Red Eye. He was a hero on the Dark Moon, an icon of an era long gone and the harbinger of good things to come. She’d learned his name in school, heard the stories how he singlehandedly turned back an Icewalker invasion force. How he’d died fighting alongside the queen of the empire, as any true and loyal Darkling would. He was, in short, one step from godhood.

And who was she? A seventeen year old girl, barely finished her training in the squads, squad 9 at that, and an aspiring writer. She was a nobody whose only connection to fame was riding her father’s coattails.

Black Tiger scrutinized herself in the mirror, brushing her short orange hair back, a reminder of what else she was. Half-breed. The kids at school and in the squads had never let her forget that she wasn’t a proper Lunatak, she was Thunderian, a creature so vile that even the mention of the word was insulting. Her parents loved her, they tried to make up for the hate, but they were mere mortals.

Would the larger-than-life hero see her as anything more than the kin of an enemy? How many years had he been fighting the Thundercats? How many Tigers had he killed or caught in the patrols. To be rejected by one such as him caused her legs to quiver. She’d borne the hostile glares from her peers, but could she endure it from someone she looked up to?

She’d done her best. Picked out a nice black dress that complimented her skin colour and hair, applied just a touch of makeup, made herself as decent as she could. She’d have to rely on her charm to do the rest.

The meeting was designed to get his permission to do a book on his exploits. Ever since she’d heard those first stories she’d wanted to learn more, find out more about this mysterious figure, and the dream of writing his life story had flourished in her tender mind. What if he said no? It was a vile thought and she thrust it from her head. She needed the positive energy, she needed to be optimistic here.

“You’re acting like a little girl, going on her first date,” she chastised herself. “A date with a man who is old enough to be your great grandfather.” That brought a laugh to her lips. She somehow suspected this would be unlike any of the dates she’d ever been on. For one thing it wasn’t with some teenaged boy who was hoping she’d be an easy bedmate. More negativity, and she shoved it aside. He would be at their home soon, so she went downstairs and waited.

She watched the clock in the hall, the minutes ticking by painfully slowly, and she rehearsed how she would ask. She needed to sound mature and professional, something to reassure him that letting her write about his life would be a sensible choice, that she could handle the responsibility. The clock clicked to a minute past one; he was late, maybe wasn’t even going to show up. Why couldn’t her parents have been home to be her support?

There was a knock on the door.

* * *

He was doing it as a favour. Ever since the Lunataks had rescued himself, Luna, and the others, there had seemed to be an influx of hero worship. Everyone he ran in to viewed him as some kind of icon. They didn’t seem to realize that all those supposed exploits had been more luck than skill, nor that there had often been other people present. If that was what a hero was, then he knew a great number of heroes.

Stalker was high ranking, a veritable tie with himself as far as Darklings on Third Earth went. It could even be argued that Stalker was a notch above, though the military commander would never suggest as much. His daughter, he had claimed, was dying to meet him. She wanted to talk to him and he’d figured that he would take her out on patrol with him; kill two birds with one stone as it were.

A door wouldn’t knock on itself, he thought sullenly, standing outside for at least thirty seconds before raising his hand. It opened suddenly, as though Black Tiger had been standing waiting. His breath caught in his throat, she was a spitting image of Twyla as she had been that day in the hotel on the Royal Moon. The dress was the same style, there was even enough of a resemblance that he intended to look up her family tree when he got home. She had the same smile, that same gleam in her eyes, only the orange hair marked her as someone different.

She was beautiful, as Twyla had been, and he felt the same stirring of lust that he’d felt when he’d been her age. It felt wrong and he shook his head slightly. And then he saw that pretty smile falter and the gleam fade. He’d been silent too long and she was looking less like his old wife and more like a scared teenager. “You reminded me of someone I once knew, many years ago,” he said in apology. “Your father didn’t tell you that I was thinking of taking you out on patrol?”

“Oh! No, I should, erm, go change. I’ll be a minute, make yourself at home,” she said, scampering upstairs before he could stop her.

Cursing silently, Red Eye settled on a couch. She was upset, probably crying. A fine thing to do to a friend’s daughter. He had, of course, known in advance that she would be half-Thunderian, and was grateful that Stalker had mentioned it. Growing up like that would have been very difficult for her, he imagined. Lunataks could be very cruel to those who were different. He’d never understood the appeal of dating a non-Lunatak.

In fact, he’d never really considered non-Darklings as an option either. He and Chilla had tried it for a little while, but it had been awkward. Theirs had been a relationship built on a common loss, both having lost spouses during their imprisonment, both dealing with grown up children. In the end he should have known that the relationship wouldn’t last, they were just too different.

Black Tiger returned, a hint of streaks on her face. She’d obviously applied makeup to try and cover the tears, but there was still moisture in her eyes. It was going to be difficult to explain that it wasn’t personal, that he didn’t hate her, but he couldn’t admit that for a moment he’d felt lust. Other than a clumsy night with Chilla, it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman of any kind, and he knew he should remedy that. But not with Black Tiger.

The girl now wore a loose black shirt with dark orange pants, a more simple attire and appropriate for their brief patrol. He supposed, in hindsight, that a dress wouldn’t have been bad given that they would be in the small hover car that Tycho preferred for area patrols, but if there had been a threat and she needed to fight...

“Stalker speaks very highly of you. He says you’re looking to be a writer?” he said, offering his arm and escorting her to his waiting vehicle.

“Oh yes. I mean, I’m working to improve. I just have to keep at it. Actually that’s kind of why I wanted to meet you.” She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes were busily inspecting specks of dirt on her shoes, but her cheeks were starting to colour. “I was hoping you’d let me write about you.”

He was surprised, but responded quickly so he wouldn’t make the same mistake he had earlier. “About me? Why?” The truth was, he wasn’t special. He’d just done his job, nothing much more than that.

“Well, because there are so many stories about you. I’ve always admired you and wanted to learn more about you, so I figured if I felt that way that others might too. But you probably don’t want some dumb kid half-breed to...”

“I didn’t say that.” And the hope returned to her eyes. So he’d been right then, it had been a difficult life, experiencing the worst that his people had to offer. He didn’t want to commit to anything, after all her writing might not be nearly as good as she thought, and he still didn’t think he merited a biography. “It’s not a yes yet, either. I want to read a sample of your work first. No offence, but I’ve read a lot of dreck.”

She didn’t look hurt at that. She could accept that he was judging her on skill rather than on who she was. It also meant that she was honest about her talents. “Fair enough. When we get back I can give you my last story. I wrote a short story a little while back about my dad. It’s a little childish, but it’s not bad.” She bit her lip. “Do you mind telling me a little about yourself anyway? About growing up or being here on Third Earth or something?”

It was hard not to warm to her. And he could work it in to the patrol route. “Third Earth is fresher. Chilla had just sideswiped a Thundercat ship. Unfortunately Officer Mandora, from the Interplanetary Control Force, was in the area...”

* * *

She was starting to feel a little more comfortable in Red Eye’s presence. The early blip was forgotten and she was picking up a vague sense of acceptance. He was still uncomfortable around her but at least she didn’t feel like he hated her.

Black Tiger wondered if her dad had mentioned that Red Eye wanted to do a patrol at the same time and she just hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been so excited at the prospect of meeting Red Eye that she might well have missed a part of the conversation.

What she wasn’t missing was what he was saying to her now. They drove around the perimeter of the city before taking a rocky path. Red Eye grew quiet as they went, and she suspected that they were headed somewhere important. The path was worn with tire treads and led to a small clearing at the base of some cliffs, a volcano lurking nearby. The hovercraft came to a stop near twisted pieces of rock and they stepped out.

There was magic in the air, and it caused the hairs on the back of her neck to tingle. “Do you know where we are?” She shook her head. She didn’t know much about Third Earth, only what little her father had said. There was no great pyramid and no Cat’s Lair. Though the Fire Rock Mountains were nearby, she didn’t think that was what he meant, after all the mountains ran close to New Lunis as well, part of the defensive strategy should the Thundercats ever attack them.

“This is where Mumm-Ra imprisoned us,” he said solemnly. That was a story she’d heard about. “On the side of that volcano is where we crashed, and we made it this far before Mumm-Ra attacked. We fought our best, but his demon sorcery was too strong for us. He drew lava from the volcano and covered us.”

She followed at a respectful distance as he walked to twisted rocks. He turned one over with his hand and she thought she saw the outline of a face in it, probably Alluro’s based on the shape of it. “Eighty years we stood here. Eighty years where time stood still.”

“That’s horrible. I heard the story, but it doesn’t sound real. And yet you and the others are proof of it,” Black Tiger said. She turned away from the rocks, she was seeing body parts in them and it felt disquieting. “How have you done it? You lost your family, your friends, everything. And how did Shade? I can’t imagine losing my father so suddenly.”

“Maybe you are the right person to tell my story then,” Red Eye placed his hand on her shoulder. “Being a hero isn’t all glory and honour. There’s love, hope, pain, and suffering. If I let you do this, will you tell it all or gloss over the good.”

It was tricky with those mechanical eyes to get a good reading of the emotions in him, but the furrowing of his eyebrows showed that he was being serious. “I will. I’ll be as thorough as I can. I’ll even let you see it before I try getting it published, and you can stop the whole thing if you want. I promise on my honour,” she said. Her heart was hammering quicker, she still needed him to see her prior work before he would commit to it, but it was sounding more and more likely that he would give the go ahead. Finally she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “Thank you. I’ll make you proud.”

“I know you will. Let’s get you back home before your father sends out search parties.” He walked back towards the hovercraft and cast one last look at his former prison. She suspected there were going to be a lot of emotional moments in the days ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

Seeing Red by Jonathan James Prideaux

Conclusion

My father once told me that to understand the future we must look to the past, so what does that mean the future holds for Red Eye? If the past is any indication it’s going to be a hell of a ride, pardon the language.

Red Eye has led a life of triumphs and catastrophes that are intertwined, the one leading to the other. He would be born with a genetic defect that would have crippled the average person, but he used this to become invaluable in the squads with a proficiency to see in other spectrums unmatched by anyone. His freakish mouth gave him an appreciation for cooking, making him well known on the Dark Moon as much for his culinary creations as he is in the field.

He fell in love young, a whirlwind romance that grew stronger when he saved Twyla’s life. The love would grow strong and be consummated in a hotel room and some day would lead to the most precious thing in his life, his daughter Shade. And yet that precious gift of life was also the source of marital discord, a marriage that would dissolve and leave both almost grateful for the break.

Red Eye was labelled a hero on the Dark Moon for what he deems ordinary acts, and a villain by the people of Third Earth for trying to survive and obeying his orders. Life is funny that way, I guess.

Is the story over? No, because his life isn’t over. Third Earth is a place of new challenges and adventures. One can bet that this very biography will need to be updated some time down the road. It’s been both a pleasure and an honour to have the opportunity to write the story of this incredible man. That’s right, a man with foibles and strengths, not some godlike being who can do no wrong.

Thank you, Red Eye, for letting me share your story and for letting us all see you better.


End file.
